You Know I Do
by avengersashley
Summary: "You know that I do." Sequel to "You Know What It's Like To Be Unmade". Our assassins have made it through the brunt of all their troubles. Or so they thought. Those were the least of their troubles. More of the butt-kicking, heartstring-tugging duo Hawkeye and Black Widow. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys I'm back! It's taken me forever, but for this story, I'm going back to the original formal the first story was like, so just continuous mission for STRIKE Team Delta. Now we have this mission, and I hope y'all are ready! Note: I do not own the continent of Africa, the country of Kenya, any airports, or anything. Also, I'm just able to use google translate, so I'm not really good with languages.**

 **Well, I hope you guys enjoy, and please please review!**

* * *

"Ugh, I hate airports," Clint complained as he dragged his and Natasha's suitcase behind him. Natasha powered people lined up at fast food restaurants, trying to get that last bite to eat before getting on their plane. Clint struggled to keep up behind her with all the bags.

"You survived a fifteen hour flight, Barton. You can survive twenty minutes more to find the exit." Natasha quipped and looked down at her map again. The Jomo Kenyatta International airport is the largest airport in Kenya, and they just happened to fly into it at the busiest time of the year. Who knew October was one of the craziest month? Her map showed that the exit should just be around the corner, but when they turned, they were met by a mob of people that just excited a bus.

The duo were stuck there for a moment as the swarm of people surrounded them and walked past, leaving the exit wide open. Quickly they walked into through the sliding doors, and out into the shining sun and blasting heat.

Clint groaned, "Ugh, I forgot how hot it gets here." Natasha turned around and glared at him behind her sunglasses.

"Can you not complain for two minutes?" She asked jokingly and Clint shook his head. Natasha rolled her eyes, and scanned the roads for a bus heading to Nairobi. A couple seconds later, she spotted one and waved it down.

Slowly, the bus rumbled down to the side of the road and it's creaky doors opened. Natasha walked up the steps and greeted the driver in Swahili.

"Sawa, _is this bus going to Nairobi?_ " The bus driver nodded, and Natasha walked towards the back of the bus. The bus driver stepped out and helped Clint get the bags into the bottom of the bus, where he was struggling to open the door. Together they walked back onto the bus, and the doors shut behind them.

Clint moved to go back and sit with Natasha, when a firm hand grabbed his shoulder. He tensed, ready for a fight, but turned around to see the bus driver, a hand out and waiting impatiently. Clint knew what he wanted.

Clint pulled out a crumpled up five dollar bill, hoping that was enough for bus fare, and the driver nodded and said, "Asante."

Clint might have been rusty on his Swahili, but he knew 'thank you' in lots of languages. He pushed through the rest of the people on the bus and sat down next to Natasha just as the driver started to pull away.

"Didn't know you knew Swahili." Clint said nonchalantly, only showing the slightest notion that he was impressed.

Natasha smiled. " _There's a lot of things you don't know about me_." She answered in Swahili.

Clint grinned, accepting the challenge. " _Don't test me, I may be rusty, but I know Swahili too._ " He paused, as if he was searching for something. " _I know you already know Spanish, French, and Italian, I know them too. But what about this one?_ " He asked in another language.

Natasha snorted. " _Japanese, too easy. I spent a year in Japan, I can speak like a native_." She switched languages again. " _How about some Polish?_ "

Clint nodded and returned in Polish, " _Yep, had some neighbors once that were Polish, they taught me._ "

" _How many languages do you know in total?_ " Clint asked in Arabic. Natasha paused for a moment, as if she was counting.

"Fluent in ten, can get by in four more." She said in English, dropping all the languages.

Clint whistled. "Dang. I'm fluent in eight, and can also get by enough in eight."

Natasha nodded, and opened her mouth to say something, before the bus abruptly stopped caused by the driver slamming on the brakes. Clint and Natasha slammed forwards, only catching themselves with their hands on the guard rail in front of them.

"What was that?" Clint said, looking around.

The air was immediately filled with the sound of gunfire, mixed with the screaming bus passengers. The bus rocked back and forth, and Natasha looked out the window to see men with masks on shaking the bus.

" _Kifo,"_ Natasha muttered under her breath as her hands braced herself.

Clint looked at her confused. "Death? Who are they?"

Natasha hurried to explain, "Kifo is a local gang that terrorizes the towns, they are wanted to murder, espionage, armed robbery, kidnappings, almost anything."

Clint sighed and rolled his eyes. "And of course, we bump into them. This day's just getting better and better."

* * *

 **Also, other note, Kifo is not a real thing, as far as I know, I just looked up a word and used it. So yeah, moral of the story, I literally don't know anything. At all. So, please review, and goodnight!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, this is going to be short cause there's not really much I have to say. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please please pretty please review! Those are the best things.**

 **Also, disclaimer, I don't not own anything, or names, nor is there a person really with these name that I know of. If your name is used in this story, I just used a name generator so it was random. So yeah.**

 **Please enjoy, and review!**

* * *

Clint groaned the entire time he pulled his bow and quiver out of his suitcase.

"Quit your complaining, you know you enjoy this," Natasha shot him a look as she pulled out two glocks and double checked the magazines.

Clint nodded, but still scowled. "Yes, but now I'm hot, I'm tired, and I just want to go to our hotel. Maybe an easy day."

Natasha sighed. "I know, but nothing is ever easy for us." The assassins stood up, sunglasses covering their eyes, Natasha standing up straight and confident, Clint sagged and rubbing his face with his hands.

"You ready?" Natasha turned to her partner and asked. Clint shrugged.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Let's go." STRIKE Team Delta walked to the front of the bus, scared passengers crouching on the floor of the bus watching carefully. While the bus driver was hiding under the steering, Natasha walked in front and flipped a switch, opening the bus doors.

They walked out the doors, but as soon as Clint left the last step, the bus driver flipped the switch again so the doors hissed shut. Clint looked back, offended, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Leave him," Natasha said as a side note, as she held her guns out in front of her, facing one of the members of Kifo. The sight was odd, a dark skinned man dressed in camo clothing, with a bright red mask covering his entire face, faced off against a man and woman that wore khakis and athletic shirts with sunglasses. The man in the red mask shouted something that the assassins didn't hear, and the rest of the gang stopped shaking the bus and stood behind red mask. Scared passengers slowly stood up, and stared out the windows, desperate to see the fight go down.

Clint groaned and threw his head back. "Can we just get this over already? I want to go back into the AC." The gang took this as an incentive to start fighting, so they pulled the triggers on their guns. Natasha and Clint dove out of the way, behind two different cars to avoid the bullets.

Natasha looked over at her partner, annoyed. "You had to start it." Clint just grinned.

"The faster they start it, the quicker we win and are done with this." He loaded three arrows and peeked over the hood of the car, before ducking back down as raining bullets hit the car. When the barrage stopped, he stood up, shot the three arrows in front, and the sides of the gang, before hitting the ground and tucking his arms over his head. Natasha slid down too, covering her ears with her hands.

Seconds later, a large explosion shook the cars and bus in front of the gang, causing the bus passengers to scream even more. After the ringing subsided and the dust settled down, Natasha peeked over her car to survey the damage. Nothing was left of the gang, just some melted down plastic masks.

The assassins stood up fully, and Natasha crossed her arms as she walked over to Clint. "I didn't get to do anything. You didn't even want to fight." Clint shrugged and he wiped off some dirt from his bow.

"Sorry. To slow." He grinned, and ducked down to narrowly avoid a playful punch thrown at him. "Let's just get back to the bus and-" He was cut off by the sound of squealing tires as the bus driver gunned it, trying to get away from the mess.

Clint groaned and flipped the driver off as he sped away. "Our stuff is still in there!" He shouted, frustrated.

It was Natasha's turn to grin. "I got it." Carefully, she raised her right gun, and aim its sights at the rear left tire as it pulled away. Gently squeezing the trigger, a bullet exploded from the barrel, catching the tire and blowing in up, sending the bus to a rolling halt.

Natasha and Clint calmly walked towards the bus, knocking on the glass when they reached the doors. Terrified, the bus driver opened the doors, and Natasha walked in to grab their bags from their seats, as Clint grabbed the ones from a compartment underneath the bus.

Natasha thanked the driver and stepped outside with Clint, handing him her bag. He huffed but took it as the bus sped away.

"Now how are we going to get to the hotel?" Clint asked impatiently.

Natasha walked away from him and talked over her shoulder. "We walk. It's not that far." Clint sighed and followed obediently.

* * *

"Thank the Lord, we're here." Clint cried as he threw their bags on the floor of their room and flopped down on one of the two beds.

"It wasn't that bad," Natasha said, wiping a little bit of sweat off her brow.

Clint flipped off his sunglasses and stared at her. "That bad? You said we were close. That was a two and a half mile walk!" He before burying his face in the bed again.

Natasha shrugged and smiled. "It wasn't bad for me, then."

"You weren't carrying the bags," Clint complained as he rolled over and threw a pillow at Natasha's head. Her back was turned, and he hit dead center and she froze. Clint grinned, but then Natasha picked up three more pillows and chucked them at Clint. He held his arms in front of his head to protect himself, useless against the constant barrage of pillows. Soon the assassins were laughing, laying on the bed and floor, pillows thrown everywhere.

Finally, Clint sat up, still quietly laughing. "I'm going to take a shower." He said, grabbing his bag and a clean set of clothes and shut the bathroom door behind him. Natasha took the quiet break to pick up some other pillows and rearrange them on her bed, before grabbing the dossier Coulson had given them and reading through it again.

This was an undercover mission, the first one they had as a team. She was Emily Austen, and her fiance, Brad Sloane. That explained the fancy, but fake ring she wore on her left hand. According to their file, they were going to get married in December, and they were in Kenya as part of their 'trip around the world' before they got married and settled down in America. Emily and Brad were millionaires, and invited to Geoffrey Daniels' banquet.

Geoffrey Daniels was a Kenyan millionaire, know for his wide donations to charity and helping people less fortunate than him. Not under the spotlight, he was known in the criminal world as one of the most notorious drug lords in the worlds.

So STRIKE Team Delta were sent to stop him.

* * *

 **Did you like it? Hate it? Tell me! Review please!**

 **I will try to upload the next chapter this weekend, but I need to update my other stories too.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm trying to update all my stories at once, and this is the last one. It's getting late for me, so I'll try to finish it early.**

 **REVIEWS!**

 **Guest: I'm glad you like it so much! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Lingo10: Yep, there will be some more action. Not right now, but coming up!**

 **Katie MacAlpine: Holy crap, you know alot about robots! I didn't even there were robot laws. That's pretty interesting! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **I hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

After his shower, Clint walked outside of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel, to see Natasha laying on the bed, papers covering every corner of the duvet.

"Studying much, eh?" He joked, hanging the towel to dry on the back of the chair. Moving some papers to the side, he sat down next to her.

"So what do you think so far?" He asked when they sat in silence for a few more minutes.

"He's a manipulator, able to trick the world into anything. Has the power and money to do it too. The dance is supposed to be a cover for his other dealers to come in. Daniels hid the drugs inside his house somewhere, and those dealers are going to go pick it up, so they can distribute it out of Kenya." She said monotonically, rattling off the facts.

"So what does that mean?" Clint pushed for more. When Natasha was reading a person or situation, he asked questions to make her think about it more.

"He's a good hider, a faker. He's hidden his drugs from the world, everyone thinks he's perfect."

"What about his social life?"

"He's a partier. He loves having a good time, alcohol, whatever it takes to have fun. He loves women, at his parties, there's always more women than men. He's married with no kids, at least none that he knows of. That can be used as an advantage, get in, distract him, and grab the drugs and the dealers.

Clint nodded approvingly. "Good, nice job. The gala is in three days, so for now, I say we enjoy ourselves." He cracked open the mini fridge, and pulled out two bottles of beer, keeping one for himself, and handing the other to Natasha.

She popped open the lid a took a long swig, Clint doing the same. Natasha looked down on her papers for a minute, before realizing that Clint was staring at her. Their eyes met, and Natasha felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. She loved her partner. She really did.

"Where did you get this?" Clint asked, gingerly running his finger along a scar that ran down her jawline.

Natasha thought back for a moment. "That was a Red Room punishment. It was one of my first missions, and I screwed up. I took to long to kill the guy, and he got out some information that wasn't supposed to be leaked. They used a hot knife, the same method that they used on all of us." She said darkly, bitter memories flowing in.

She pointed to an about three inch scar on his upper left arm, peeking out below his t-shirt.

"A mission in Istanbul. I was protecting this Turkish official, and an assassin from a roof tried to shot at him. It went through my arm and into his leg. We both survived, but when Coulson found us, the assassin didn't fare too well. He was mad."

The assassins spent the night like that, sitting on the floor, counting and asking about scars. In total, Natasha had twenty-eight, and Clint had thirty. He was very proud he had the most.

* * *

 **Did you like it? Hate it? Just have some random facts you wanna share? Review! I'd love to read them!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, I am back! After a lot of writing and re-writing this chapter, I finally got it how I wanted! I know most of you guys are waiting for some action, and I promise, it's coming, I just wanted to add something sweet. Since this is technically Clintasha, I did want to throw a little romance inside, because, ya know, gotta change it up a bit sometimes right? So here's this chapter, it's nice and long because I haven't updated in forever.**

 **So, I hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

"Are you ready for tonight?" Clint asked his partner, fixing the buttons on his white shirt. Natasha was in the bathroom, telling him that 'he couldn't see her until she was fully done.' She had picked up her entire suitcase and moved into the bathroom, seemingly preparing for the next World War with the amount of stuff she had.

"No, who do you think I am?" She called back, over the blow of her hairdryer. She had finished showering a minute ago and had wrapped a fluffy white towel around her body.

Clint smiled as he held up his bow tie in the mirror. Natasha had advised against it, but was he going to listen? No. He thought bow ties were super stylish and wore them as often as he could.  
"I think you are the Black Widow, the super assassin that can take on anything," He joked.

Natasha smiled from the safety of the bathroom, and muttered under her breath, "Not everything."

Shaking the bad thoughts out of her head about how the mission could wrong, she continued to blow dry and brush out the red curls as she went over what she did know.

Tonight was the first night of the banquet. It lasted for two days, and tonight was the relaxation date. It was a formal dinner and dance, and the next night was when the auction would take place.

Daniels was notorious for two things, drug cartels, and expensive art auctions. He held auctions often, almost once a month, and the one that would happen tomorrow night was the biggest one of the year.

SHIELD had reason to suspect that under the cover of the auction, the dealers would sneak in an grab the hidden drugs, ready to distribute them to every corner of the world. So Clint and Natasha had to put aside their mission skills and regular skill set, for a newer one, going undercover.

Natasha had gone undercover before, some of them for months at a time. She never really enjoyed it, however. As Emily, she had to be a light and bouncy airhead millionaire with too much money to handle. Those were the worst. If she ever had to go undercover, it was much easier to go as a person who was hidden from the world, an introvert that got in and got out. But now, she had to bring out a side of her personality that normally didn't show. And she was dreading it.

Clint, on the other hand, really enjoyed going undercover. There weren't to many mission where he had the opportunity to do so, he was the assassin, and they didn't do much undercover work in SHIELD. That's where the specialists came in. Now, for the first time in a long time, he got to go undercover, and not be in hiding. He got to be Brad, the proud millionaire, ready and aimed with a little over $100,000,000 for Daniels auction. Barton had read intensely about 'Brad's' backstory and basically memorized everything that had been on the page.

Clint pulled on his suit jacket, buttoning the bottom and fixing his bow tie in the mirror. After he fixed his gelled-up hair with his hand, he looked at the expensive Rolex on his right hand. 5:02. They had little under an hour and a half to get to the party.

He looked at the bathroom door and sighed. That meant Natasha was going to be in there for at least two hours. Knowing it would be a while and he wasn't going to waste it standing, he kicked off his shoes and laid down on his bed, planning to get a little shut-eye.

Natasha decided she would do her hair later. She had already tried a million different hairstyle in the mirror, and she didn't like any of them. Eventually, she gave up and brushed it so it wasn't tangled, and let it be.

She applied a little bit of makeup, enough to be noticeable, but not enough to look over the top. She used some skin-colored eyeshadow to darken the area on and above her eyelid. Along with a couple layers of mascara and winged eyeliner, her eyes were finished. A little bit of foundation and blush later, she was nearly finished. She ended her makeup with a layer of dark red lipstick. Someone had once told her it looked like blood, and she liked it.

With makeup finished, she moved on to the last part she knew how to do, the dress. It was personally her favorite dress, and she had been saving it for a special occasion.

'This is certainly an occasion,' She thought.

The dress was a floor length, off the shoulder satin. The top part was black, then as it moved closer to the floor it turned to a dark shade of purple. Throw little white dots on it, and it would turn into a galaxy. The slit on her left side made it easier for her to walk in the tight-fitting dress, and also made it easier to hide weapons.

Clint had asked her multiple times how in the world she was able to fit so many weapons in her leather suit. She chuckled at the thought of his face when she was able to hold just as many weapons in a formal dress.

Carefully, she slid the dress over her head and pulled it down until it fit against the rest of her body. She fixed the straps so they were off her shoulders, but around her arms.

She stared at the mirror. She was still Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. So she thought. The old Black Widow would never willingly walk into a party with a date, let alone be working with anybody. She wanted to say she enjoyed it more. It was a relief not being under the pressure of failing a mission and awaiting death, giving 200% every time just to meet expectations.

She gave a sigh and tried out her fake smile. It matched with her dress and makeup, all she had to figure out was her hair.

Natasha opened the bathroom door and stepped out. She found Clint laying on the bed, snoring. She smiled quietly and walked over to her suitcase where her shoes were. One thing she was always proud of was her shoes.

Not great for missions, but she had a pair of black, lace-up stilettos. The gave her a good inch and half more on height, almost the exact height of Clint.

When she zipped the suitcase shut, Clint woke up with a start, looking around the room, until his eyes landed on Natasha.

His mouth dropped open slightly before he caught himself, and tried to cover it up by yawning. Natasha saw it and smiled, the tiniest bit of color flooding her cheeks, barely noticeable.

Clint coughed and cleared his throat. "You look, really nice. Like, really nice. I wish I bought something a little fancier. " He said, looking down at his own suit.

Natasha laughed and walked over. Teasingly fixing his bow tie so it was on straighter, she said quietly, "It's fine, Brad. I like the bow tie." It was Clint's turn to blush, his coloring his cheeks more. Natasha turned and walked back towards her bed.

"Natasha! Don't tell me you're going to the party with your hair like that." He asked exasperatedly.

Natasha threw her hand over her shoulder. "And just what do you know about hair?" Clint laughed, loud and heartily.

"Sweetheart you have no idea. Sit down, I'll fix this."

Natasha obediently sat down on the end of the bed, and Clint hopped up on it behind her. Quickly, his fingers were tangled in her hair, separating this strand from that one, creating groups. Most of her har, he left hanging down in the back, barely brushing her shoulders.

The parts he used were twisted up and braided that Natasha never even thought of before. In the end, two braided strands of hair near her face were brought back and tied together. Then, two more groups twisted around those braids, alternating sides. Finally, a dark purple flower Clint had found covered the hair bands in the bag.

Natasha had brought the flower along because it went with the dress, but she hadn't found any use for it. When he finished, she stood up and went to the bathroom to look at it.

It looked absolutely stunning. She stared it in the mirror until Clint poked his head through and grinned.

"Do you like it?"

Natasha didn't even say anything for a moment. She turned and walked over to him. Not knowing a better way of expressing her gratitude, she kissed him on the cheek.

"I love it."

Natasha walked out with so much blush on her face she thought she was sweating. 'Why did I do that?' It felt so wrong, but at the same time, she knew it was exactly what she was supposed to do. Natasha never actually had given it thought before, but sometimes she felt their relationship was a little more than professional. to her own surprise, she was completely okay with that.

Clint didn't know what had happened. He had just done what he knew how to do, hair and makeup. And she had kissed him. Clint wasn't a man of great touchy-feely things, and he knew neither was she. But that, that was something completely different. This night was bringing out something different in his normally cold partner. And he liked it.

* * *

 **So legit, when I was writing this I was like 'That's adorable' and was awing the whole time. It's not a lot, and there might be some more in the future, but I'm not much of a lovey-dovey romance writer. So I mostly stick to action. But once and a while, I'll put something in to mix it up a little. I'll try not to be to long on the next chapter.**

 **Bye!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Whoop there we go got the next chapter out. Sorry for being late, but its out now. I actually kind of like this chapter. So there's not much else here, so there we go, enjoy.**

* * *

The billionaire couple walked elegantly up the stairs, arm in arm. The house was enormous, monstrous compared to the slums and the tiny city they had flown into. They had entered the rich part of Kenya, the wealthy flaunting all their money.

Now it was the assassin's turn to play their part.

Natasha wore overly large dark sunglasses, hiding her eyes. In her cover, Emily Austen was almost bored by coming to the party. Natasha Romanoff was scanning every inch of the place, making notes of the entrances, exits, guards stationed along the house, how many windows there were, if there was any access to the roof. The windows were for her, the roof for Clint.

Clint, Brad, had to play the part the entire time. While Natasha got some reprieve from the safety of the sunglasses, Clint had to be total party mode for the entire time. It didn't seem like a problem, Clint looked like he was having the time of his life.

When they reached the entrance, a burly guard stepped in front of them, arms folded across his chest. Clint and the guard stared at each for a moment, before Clint broke the uneasy silence.

"Hi. I'm Brad Sloane, and this is my fiance, soon to be wife Miss Austen." His smile alone looked like a million dollars, but the guard remained stone-faced. Clint's smiled pretended to falter, and he looked down at Natasha. It was her turn to act.

She pulled off her sunglasses and matched her smile with his. "Brad, I think he wants the invitation, silly." She said, voice filled with lightness. She didn't need to step up that high because of her heels, and she kissed Clint on the cheek.

Clint grinned and reached into his back pocket. "Of course, sweetheart. I'm so forgetful sometimes." He pulled out the two invitations and handed them to the guard. He looked down at them carefully and then stepped aside, letting the "couple" in.

Brad and Emily were all smiles as they walked through the front hallways, but they were whispering frantically beneath their grins.

"What was that?" Natasha asked

"What do you mean?"

Natasha rolled her eyes but continued smiling, "With the guard, that was horrible."

Clint chuckled. "I didn't think it was _that_ bad."

She snorted. "It definitely was. And don't call me sweetheart."

Inside the house was gorgeous. It was like you walked into a museum. Elegant furniture and rugs took up space on the floor, famous paintings adorned the walls, and Natasha assumed nothing here was acquired legally. They had arrived at the banquet ten minutes late, but it was already packed with wealthy people from all over the world.

Butlers and maids stood at every corner, while others walked around silent, offering guests delicate foods and wines. A man walked by Clint and Natasha, and they each took a glass of Chardonnay.

Clint brought the glass to his lips to hide his mouth moving. "Do you have your comm on?"

Natasha nodded and took a sip of her own. "Meet back here in ten minutes."

The couple separated and went off to go mingle. Clint walked up to a group of ladies who were already clearly drunk. He walked up and started flirting with them, the women loved it. Natasha watched from her side of the room as she walked around the edges of the room.

It was odd, Natasha couldn't help but feel jealous when one of the ladies hooked her arm around Clint's waist, and Clint wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She knew it was all an act, but she was distracted nevertheless.

So distracted she walked right into the man who stood in front of her. She looked up in surprise and immediately put on an "I've-had-too-much-to-drink" look to try and act innocent.

"I'm soooo sorry, I was being so silly, not watching where I was looking," Natasha said in the airhead voice of Emily, and looked down at the half-empty glass in her hand. "I guess I've had a few too many of these."

The man waved it off, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping off the front of his jacket. "It's alright. I know how you can make it up to me," He said, and grabbed Natasha's hand, pulling her out to the dance floor.

"You owe me a dance." He whispered, pulling her close with his hand on her hip, her hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met, and Natasha finally got a chance to see who she ran into.

Geoffrey Daniels.

* * *

 **Oof. Probably not much of a surprise, but it was fun to write anyway.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow, I haven't been doing anything. I've been sick for about forever now, so that means I haven't been doing anything. But pretty much, here is the next chapter that is way overdue. Sorry for grammar mistakes, my program wasn't working well today, so there were not a lot of edits.**

 **Also, for reference, this is after the first Thor and Iron Man 2, but the other movies after that have not happened today.**

 **Other than that, enjoy!**

* * *

The music was in a slow waltz, and Natasha started to size up Geoffrey Daniels. He was taller than some other drug lords she had met, a good four inches taller than her at 5'11. He had calloused hands and a strong grip, signs of hard manual labor.

Brown eyes stared coldly into her green ones, and a well-practiced forced smiled was plastered on his face. "So, miss…" He implied, and Natasha put on her dumb act once again.

"Oh! I'm Emily Austen. But, I'm about to be Mrs. Emily Sloane," She giggled and removed her hand from his and wiggled her ring in front of her, before returning her hand to its spot.

Geoffrey smiled, white teeth dazzling. "Well, congratulations. Let's have some fun before your big commitment." Natasha threw back her head and laughed, loud and high pitched.

"Darling, I have no commitments." This answer seemed to please Daniels, so she continued.

"What about you? Do you have any _commitments_?" She purred, dragging her fingers from his shoulders along the front of his suit, playing with the buttons. Natasha looked back up at his eyes until someone behind him caught her attention.

That man walked up next to the dancing couple, placed a hand on Geoffrey's shoulder. "Mr. Daniels, may I interrupted and steal this lovely woman away from you?"

T'challa asked politely, his accent making his words flow smoothly. Geoffrey smiled and spun Natasha out so T'challa could take his place.

"I will see you in another life, Miss Austen. Maybe we can finish this conversation later," He bowed and winked, then walked across the dance floor.

"Your highness, what are you doing here?" Natasha asked the Prince of Wakanda.

T'challa smiled. "I could ask the same for you, Miss Austen. And drop the formalities, you know me. How have you been?"

Natasha smiled. "Since that mission on Mount Kanda? Much better."

T'challa laughed, reminded of memories of that mission. The Black Widow and the Prince of Wakanda had taken a mission on one of Wakanda's many mountains, forged by a deal by T'challa's father and Nick Fury. A well-known jewelry thief had gained access and took refuge in the mountains, along with some body guards. Their job was to capture the thief and bring him back to America for a trial.

Natasha knew then that she was perfectly capable of taking him down by herself, but since she was on foreign territory, the King of Wakanda commanded his son to accompany her.

The memories started flooding back as the Black Widow and the Wakandan Prince danced to the slow music.

* * *

 _They had taken an invisible jet up to the mountain, and Natasha could barely contain her amazement. The technology was much more advanced than anything the US was currently working on. And it was only 2008._

" _My Prince, we are approaching Mount Kanda." Okoye, the general of the Dora Milaje called from her seat at the front of the jet. T'challa stood up from his seat and walked forward until he was standing next to Natasha._

" _Ms. Romanoff? Are you ready?" He asked, his accent making the words flow like melting chocolate. She would never admit it out loud, but his accent was one of the most beautiful things she had ever experienced. Besides, of course, the luscious mountains and rolling green hills of Wakanda._

" _Always, your highness." She gave a small smile. There was and never would be a time that she wasn't ready and waiting for a mission. Dying to get into the field, itching to get her hands around a gun. And pulling the trigger. She couldn't forget her favorite part._

* * *

 _T'challa's padded feet were silent against the stone and rocky ground, matching Natasha's. Not even laced up combat boots could make a noise against the gravel when Natasha walked. She was silent, and a ghost, a whisper in the shadows._

 _They crept along the path until they reached the mouth of the cave, where the thief was supposed to be hiding out. It seemed to be empty, but Natasha had this gut feeling in her stomach that something was wrong._

 _Instead of scanning the inside of the cave, she started staring at the ground, looking for anything unusual. Nothing was out of the ordinary until she saw the wire._

"T'challa, freeze," _she whispered urgently, throwing her arm out to the side he was on to try and block his path. Right then titles and your highness's didn't matter, she didn't want the two of them to get blown up._

 _She crouched down on her hands and knees, T'challa right next to her. She following the wire a couple inches back with her fingers, tracing it to a rock on their left, to the front of the cave._

 _T'challa examined the rock more closely, while she watched the wire._

" _It's a bomb." He confirmed her worst fears. But it was alright, they just had to back up while they came up with a plan to either go around or over, carefully._

 _Slowly, they both walked backward carefully, both running scenarios in their head. Natasha was analyzing escape routes of the thief and their own when she caught movement in the corner of her eyes._

 _Natasha whipped her head around to see a squirrel barreling towards where the two heroes were standing, chased by some invisible predator._

NO _! She thought. Out every scenario, she saw in her head none of them involved an animal running on the scene. She leaped for it, trying to reach it, or at least scare it off._

 _The squirrel dodged between her legs, running away from them, and in the direction of the bomb. She tried to run forwards, wanting to catch it before it hit the wires, but T'challa jumped backward in a flying tackle._

 _He hit her, and they went rolling to the ground. When they stopped moving, T'challa covered her body with his, since his suit was made out of vibranium and more protective than the leather suit Natasha's was._

 _Natasha squeezed her eyes shut and threw her arms around her head, trying to curl up into a ball as much as possible, just as the bomb went off._

* * *

"Natasha. Tasha. Tasha. NAT!" Clint voiced rang in her ears, getting louder and louder over the comms, snapping her out of those memories. She realized she was still dancing, and T'challa was looking down at her face, smiling.

She remembered she was at the party, dancing. Dancing with T'challa. She brought her hand to her had and brushed her hair away from her ear, a distraction so she could hit her comm.

"Barton, give me a minute," She whispered frantically as T'challa gave his quizzical looks.

"So, why are you really here?" T'challa asked, knowing that the Black Widow wasn't here for the social event.

Natasha was about to answer T'challa when Clint's voice cut through and caught her attention.

"No, Nat we have a problem. I lost Daniels. He disappeared."


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow. You guys, I just came over with a massive writer's block and I have ideas again! Woohoo! So there's not much, and I just want to let this go here. This chapters kind of long, but you guys have waited a really long time, so it's all good. Well, enjoy guys!**

* * *

Natasha cursed under her breath as T'challa spun her around. "What's wrong?" He asked again, catching his eyes with hers. "Why are you here?"

Natasha sighed, pushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "I know you're not here for the social benefits, your highness. You know what I'm doing here."

T'challa nodded his head solemnly. "I'm here with my partner. That's who I was talking to. We have been keeping an eye on Daniels for the whole party, but now he disappeared."

Natasha swung out, holding T'challa's hand, and bowed. "Thank you for the dance, your highness." She said, voice bubbly and drunk, becoming Emily once again.

T'challa brought her hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. "My pleasure, Miss Austen." T'challa winked, and turned away, grabbing a drink and chatting up another couple. Natasha smiled shyly, and using her fake personality, walked confidently back to her partner.

He was still surrounded by the same group of women, but his smile was forced due to the news of the situation. Natasha's mouth turned into a frown, uneasy by the sight of all the women. He was her partner! Not theirs. She felt emotions rise up inside her, but she pushed them back down, just like she had been taught in the Red Room. When Clint saw Natasha walking towards him, he relaxed and started to pry away from some of the ladies. When they protested, Natasha jumped in.

"Ladies, Ladies, three feet at all times, please." Natasha drunkenly stumbled past the ladies and pushed them aside. She sat down on Clint's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as if she was protecting him. She had never been this close to him before.

 _It's just an act. Only for the mission are you a couple_ , she told herself, but she felt otherwise. Every time she was with him her feelings grew. But the Black Widow couldn't have feelings. She was an emotionless killer.

But, oh, God she loved him. She would never say it out loud. She never could. But she couldn't deny those feelings, no matter how hard she tried. So seeing him with the millionaires and billionaires, flirting, laughing, she was jealous. She couldn't help it.

But she had to focus on the mission, not her emotions. She could deal with those later.

"This one's mine so hands off!" She smiled playfully and smacked off a jeweled hand that was slowing working its way up Clint. The ladies frowned, and after a little more convincing, they walked away to find another man to bother. Clint rubbed his hand over his face, the party not even being 9 o'clock yet and exhaustion had already set in.

"You good, Barton?" Natasha asked, looking around the room. He was right, she couldn't see Daniels anywhere. The deal must already be underway.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Women are just a piece of work." Clint smirked and winked at Natasha, who smacked him on the arm playfully, not giving a full smile.

"Well, all work and no play, right? Time to go back to work." Natasha and her fake husband stood up, arm in arm, and walked away from the dance floor.

The couple's smiles were fake, along with everything about them. Their eyes were open, looking like they were taking in the sights, but they were really scanning the area, looking for any sign of Daniels.

"Balcony, two guards each at 12 o'clock, 5 o'clock, and 8 o'clock," Clint said softly, but Natasha could hear him loud and clear over her comms.

"No guests upstairs, so off limits," he continued, searching some more. "Guards have guns, so tighter security. I'd say the best chance of finding him would be upstairs."

While Clint was watching the upper portion, Natasha was looking on more ground level. The couple took a sharp turn, refilling their glasses, and walked the opposite directions.

"Guards down here at both front and back exits, three in each room. Security cameras appear about every ten feet, so I'd say that it was more guarded down here. We need to check down here first," Natasha growled, those discarded feelings coming back up. The more and more she thought about it, the madder she got. Why was he flirting with the women when they were supposed to be on a mission? He was selfish, reckless, and stupid!

Clint dropped his act and looked down at Natasha. "Tasha? You alright?"

"No, I just-" Natasha started to say, but cut herself off. She would not voice her feelings out loud. That was not how she did things.

On the inside, she was dying. She rage, anger, and mostly jealousy building up inside her. She didn't understand it herself, but when she saw her partner talking with those women, flirting and laughing with them, she couldn't help it. And it wasn't even like he was doing anything then to help stop Daniels, he was just flirting.

If she ever cared to admit it, she liked Barton more than she thought she would. As partners, they were supposed to have a relationship, based on trust and support. She had never had a romantic relationship, and she didn't know if she was ready for one.

Clint's eyebrows were raised as he stared at his fuming partner. "Is this because of the floors? We can check the ground first if you want then-" He tried to compromise but Natasha growled at him.

"It's not about the floors." She hissed, breaking her stare from her surroundings and looking up at Clint. Making sure the area was clear, Natasha grabbed Clint by his arm and pulled him with her. They hid behind a thick column, and Natasha pushed him up against it.

"You're the reason we lost Daniels," She hissed, her finger poking him in the check twice. Her anger had finally bubbled to the surface, and she wasn't about to just let it go. "You had to spend your whole time flirting, didn't you? Well now we lost him, and it's all your fault."

Clint's face flipped from concerned to angry in less than a second. Here he was trying to figure out to find Daniels, and figure out why Natasha was mad, and she's blaming him.

"You're telling me I was flirting? Who danced with the Prince of Wakanda for the whole time. I'm assuming you didn't talk about anything relevant since you two were just staring into each other's eyes the whole time?"

"I know T'challa from an outside mission. We kept connected in case something ever happened again."

"Oh, so you two are on a first name basis now. I thought the Black Widow never had any 'connections,'" Clint mocked, using his fingers to put quotations around connections. He was mad too, not because Natasha was mad at him, but because he had some of the same feelings too.

* * *

 _Natasha watched wearily as Clint flirted with the elegant millionaires, with them flaunting their expensive jewelry and showing a little too much cleavage. She kept one eye on him as she walked the perimeter of the first floor, memorizing it._

* * *

 _Clint peeked over his shoulder and saw Natasha dancing with T'challa, the ease, and comfort she displayed. He watched jealously as they danced until the call of his name brought his attention back to the drunk ladies providing information willingly._

* * *

 _Both assassins scanned the room for each other, making sure they were still there. They made eye contact and immediately turned back to whoever they were with._

 _In the next second, unseen by everyone, Geoffrey Daniels slipped through a back door, leaving the party._

* * *

The assassins held their stares until Clint made the first move. His fingers dug into his ear, and his other hand grabbed Natasha's pulling it out and opening it. He pulled his comm out and dropped it into her hand, and closed her fingers around it.

"Here. I'm done. You can go dance with Prince Charming. I'm going upstairs to finish the mission, and find Daniels." Clint turned on his heel, and with a huff, he smiled his way through the crowd, and made his way across the room, near the stairs. He disappeared behind a column on the opposite side of the room from Natasha.

At the same time, both Clint and Natasha leaned their head up against their respective pillars, shutting their eyes.

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose, and with the other hand toyed with the flower Clint had out in her hair.

' _He didn't mean it. Did he?'_

Clint rubbed his hands over his face, and played with his bow tie, remembering how Natasha had teased him about it.

' _She didn't mean it. Did she?'_

Clint shook his head, putting it aside for now. He would sort out emotions and thoughts later. He had a mission to complete. He weaved in between the crowds, making his way towards the stairs. Running into a guard, he started to talk his way up, a specialty of his.

Natasha still had her eyes shut and was trying to figure out what to do next. She was running Clint's comm in between her fingers, debating whether or not she was going after him.

"Miss Austen? Are you alright?" A voice caught her attention and her eyes flew up open. Daniels was standing in front of her, with two drinks in his hands. Subtly, Natasha brought her hand up, Clint's comm hidden in her palm and pretended to fix her hair. Instead, she hid the comm behind the flower, in her hair, so it wouldn't fall out.

Natasha put on her Emily voice and sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just, _commitments_ , you know?" She gave a little knowing smile, and Daniels winked.

"Here," He said, and offered Natasha one of the glasses in his hand. "To take your mind off of them. Relax a little bit."

Natasha looked at it wearily, not really wanting to drink it. She didn't need alcohol to mess with her senses right then. She needed to be focused, focused on the mission. Not on emotions. So she politely shook her head and waved away the drink. She pretended to stumble and catch herself to make it look real.

"No, thank you, Mr. Daniels. I've had a few too many of those, tonight," "Emily" admitted reluctantly and gave a little laugh. She nodded to excuse herself and turned her back on the host, attempting to walk away while searching for her partner.

When she found him, she gave a tiny sigh of relief. He was ok. He was still stuck with the guard, trying to talk his way up the stairs. Before she could make her way back to the rest of the party, Daniels slipped up behind her. He had transferred the two glasses into one hand and grabbed Natasha's hand with his free one.

"I insist, Miss Austen," he said smoothly as he dragged her away from the big group of people. They continued walking along the back walls, out of sight from most the people.

"It's the specialty. On the house, of course." He said it with a wink and a smile, but neither were very inviting. Natasha figured if she didn't take the drink soon, things would get ugly. But the question was, did Daniels think that he was going to drug and take her to his bedroom for the night? Or did he know who she really was, and the whole mission was compromised?

So Natasha grabbed the drink, but held it in her hand, as far from her face as she could.

"Go ahead, drink. It is quite delicious." Daniels made the example and drank from his own glass, draining it.

"You are too kind, Mr. Daniels, but-"

"Please. It's Geoffrey."

"Ok, Geoffrey, thank you, but I really need to go. It's getting late, and I must go find my husband before he gets into any more trouble," Natasha exclaimed, trying to get away. Natasha smiled grimly, fully recognizing that this night was not going to go as planned.

"Ah yes. The _husband_." Daniels said with a fake smile, stretching out the word so it was obviously sarcastic. Natasha scanned the floor area, she needed to find him and get his attention. When she spotted him, he had finally made his way past the guard and was working his way up the stairs.

"Brad, yes?" Natasha's attention snapped back to Daniels who kept her arm locked in an iron grip. "He is very handsome. Perfect for a lady, such as yourself." Natasha faked smiled and held the glass tighter in her hand, wondering where in the world this conversation was going. A waiter walked by and Daniels placed his empty glass on the tray he was carrying.

"I really think you should take the drink. Just a little sip." Daniels encouraged, giving her a little nudge. Natasha shook her head, refusing to give in. They continued walking while Daniels looked around, making sure no one could really see them.

Coming up on an empty hallway, Daniels dragged Natasha around the corner and pushed her up against the wall. The fight was now to his advantage. Daniels snagged his handkerchief from his suit jacket and used to cover his hand while he grabbed an object from the waistband of his pants. He pushed the object up against Natasha's stomach and she immediately knew what it was. This all happened in a matter of seconds. But not too fast for the Black Widow.

She could feel the cold metal of the gun through the fabric, and she already knew three ways she could disarm and kill him. But it wasn't time for that yet. She needed to let this play out, figure out what he knew.

"It'd be a shame if that pretty dress got ruined," Daniels said mockingly, but Natasha smiled grimly. Jokes on him, Natasha was not afraid of death. She had worked past it, but there had been times in her life that she ever wished for it. To be put out of her misery. But that was with the Red Room. Joining SHIELD, she had a new purpose, a life that she could live for herself. She had done things wrong in the past, and she was not scared to die. The red in her ledger would be wiped out completely.

"Go ahead," Natasha taunted. "Shoot a defenseless woman." Even though she wasn't scared to die, she was scared for Clint. He would take the blame all on himself. She didn't want to do that to him. And she couldn't leave him, not like this. Besides, Natasha knew that Daniels wouldn't shoot her.

Daniels chucked. "You and I both know you're anything but defenseless." That confirmed it. Daniels knew that she was not Emily Austen. She needed to warn Clint that it was a trap.

"Then you'd have no problem killing me. Eliminate the problem." Natasha gave him the perfect opportunity. Any other person would have discreetly killed her and continued on with whatever they were doing. But Daniels caught on and saw what she was doing.

"You don't care if you die," He already knew it was true, but he just wanted to confirm it out loud.

Then Natasha let the glass slip from her fingers, sending it falling to the floor. Just before it hit, Daniels' free hand shot out and grabbed the neck of the glass, only spilling a drop of liquid. Natasha sent a kick to his head while he was near the floor, but he knocked it aside with the gun. He stood up fully, and shoved the gun in her face. He rested his finger on the trigger, and held the glass beside him, just far enough away.

"You may not care to die," Daniels continued, but made a signal with his gun to unseen eyes. Natasha watched with a silent but sharp intake of breath as a laser from sighted guns appeared on Clint's head and back. She couldn't tell where they were coming from, she couldn't see any of the men.

"But what about your husband? Drink."

Daniels ordered and handed the drink to Natasha. She took it, eyeing the liquid sucisiouly. She looked over wearily at Clint, who continued to look around oblivious her the man who was standing right in front of Natasha.

"You have three seconds before I shoot him. Three." Daniels moved, staring at Natasha intensely.

"Two." Natasha shared at the liquid in her cup.

"One." She looked back up at Daniels and and drained the glass.

No matter how mad she was at Clint, she loved him. More than she would care to admit. And she couldn't let him die.

Whatever was in the drink worked quickly, black spots appeared in the vision and she dropped the glass. It fell to the floor, shattering as soon as it hit. Natasha lost her balanced and tipped forward, then Daniels caught her in his arms.

"Commitments are such a let down, aren't they?" He whispered in her ear as they slipped to the floor. Natasha got one last look at the back of Clint's head as she lost her vision completely. She heard one last order from Daniels before she fell into unconsciousness.

"Shoot him."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! This next chapter is kind of short, just the point of view from Clint's side. More action and fun stuff coming in the coming chapters! Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint watched his surrounding carefully, uneasy about the whole situation; Daniels disappearing, the fight with Natasha, then the guard who wouldn't budge suddenly let him pass through up the stairs. He regretted leaving his bow and quiver back at their room, he felt naked without them. To make up for it, Clint kept his thumbs hooked into his waistband, his left hand actually resting on the Glock attached to his belt.

He weaved in and out of the large column, searching the area. The more he searched the more uneasy he felt like something was going wrong. He wished he hadn't fought with Natasha. Or at least kept his comm.

Developed through years of training, Clint felt the presence of other men behind him. Reaching his hand towards his head, he pretended to scratch above his ear while he actually adjusted the volume of his hearing aids. Over the slightly increased volume of the party below, he heard the cocking of guns and the could feel the vibrations of steps through the wooden floor.

Taking a minute to mentally find the positions of all the armed men, he turned his hearing aids back to the regular volume. Since the blast in Bogota his hearing was never the same. He was almost completely deaf, and the Stark hearing aids made it better, but nothing would get rid of the warbling and distorting of everyone's voices. It took some getting use to

Suddenly, bullets spat out from the barrels of the guns, but Clint was ready for it. To dodge the guards on the sides he dropped to the floor, feeling the bullets fly over his head. Just his luck, the guns were silenced so the pops of the gun were drowned out by the talking of the party goers.

Next came the guard from above, his gun kicking up wood paneling pieces around Clint. So Clint rolled forward, taking cover underneath the balcony and behind a column.

He whipped out his own gun, silenced as well. Two quick shots took out the guards on the sides, when the barrage of gunfire stopped from up top, Clint dove backward, gun aimed for the balcony. During the few seconds he hung in the air, his gun fired once and caught the guard in the chest. He then hit the floor on his back with a thud. It was cool move to see, but someone painful to perform.

As soon as he stood back up, two more bullets whizzed by. The gunman was hidden in the back corner of the ground floor, concealed by dark shadows. The first bullet hit Clint's gun, knocking it out of his hand. The second was aimed for the back of his head but missed by inches when Clint attempted to dodge.

"Son of a gun," Clint hissed and dropped to the floor. Instead of hitting his head and killing him instantly, it cut across his right cheek. A thick streak of blood trailed down his face, burning, and red. Clint's hand covered his cheek, pushing to try and lessen the pain a little bit.

Clint grabbed his gun from the floor-not too damaged thank goodness-and his behind a railing while he looked for the shooter. Peeking through the bars on the railing, the glint from the light reflecting off the shooter's scope gave his position away.

Carefully aiming through the bars, Clint knocked off the shooter with his handgun without a problem. Standing back up fully, he scanned the crowd below for any sign of Natasha.

In the far right corner of the mansion, Clint saw the back of the redhead's braids, her body being held up by none other than Geoffrey Daniels.

"Gotcha," Clint whispered, giving a small smile as he walked backward, and sprinted towards the railing he once hid behind.


	9. Chapter 9

Geoffrey dragged the unconscious girl behind him, making it look like she drank too much to staring eyes around him. The wealthy didn't know what he did for his real money. They saw the fake Daniels. The bubbly, too much money to spend the type of millionaire. He had two personas when it came to it. His fake job, the happy version. And his real job, a dark and evil person.

He had spotted the redhead from the very beginning. She was a master assassin. But little did she know, he was skilled in the same profession. Inside sources had informed him of the assassins' presence in his party, so he his guards keep an eye on them the whole time.

The guard at the front door that talked to the man pulled fingerprints off the tickets. The unfortunate part? The male's ticket didn't even have a full print on it, only partial corners. And the woman's, hers weren't in any system anywhere. They were ghosts. But he had other ways of figuring out who they were.

The butler that handed the couple their drinks was in on it too. The butler had made sure to give them the specially made glasses, the ones with a microscopic microphone on the bottom. It was connected wireless to headphones that Daniels had in his ears, listening in to their conversation.

The supposedly single ladies surrounding the man the whole time? They were Daniel's as well. He paid them good money to reveal what they knew about him and his operation, just enough to give the man something while also testing how much he knew.

Finally, he got to deal with the girl himself. He figured that bumping into him was an accident, but the airhead personality of Emily was fake. The question was, to find out her reason identity, what would he have to do?

Daniels took a sharp right and walked down a silent corridor, watched by armed guards. He had hired them to make sure no one other than himself and the guest he had invited made it down the hallway.

Nodding as a courtesy to the guards, he passed them and approached one of two doors. The second door called his name, but he had some other pressing matters to attend to. The opened the door on the left, revealing a bleak grey room.

Personally, he didn't care for the room. He may have a dark and evil side of him, but the need of color and variety overpowered his care for dark colors. Alas, he could not change the room, he needed it for purposes other than having a show.

In the middle of the room sat a grey chair, matching the grey of the walls and the floors. Straps wrapped around the wrist and ankle areas, along with an extra chest strap, if needed. Lifting her up, Daniels placed the unconscious girl on the chair. He tied her ankles and wrists extra tight and put on the chest strap just as a precaution. He didn't know what she was capable of, nor did he want to find out. Daniels was not the type of man to get his hands dirty, as much as he wanted to admit otherwise.

"See you in a minute, _Miss Austen_. Don't go anywhere," He teased and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He stepped back out into the hallway and started to walk down the aisle before staring longingly at the second door. But he shook his head and continued walking on forwards.

Clint waited until Daniels left before he made his move. From his position around the corner of the hallway, he grabbed a couple marbles from his pocket. He kept some on his person at all time in case he needed to do something like this.

Crouching close to the floor, he dropped the marbles so they hit the wooden floors and rolled, the opposite direction of him. The sound carried down the hallway, catching the attention of the guards. They stared at each other and looked back out in the hallway. The burly guard on the right lumbered forward, intent on finding out what caused the noise.

Clint pressed his back up against the wall, making himself as small as possible. His suit was still intact, but people could tell something was up by the blood freely dripping down his face and the white plaster specks contrasting the black tux. He hoped that his appearance didn't give away his position as party-goers past and the guard slowly crept to the end of the hallway.

When civilians were clear so the bodyguard peeked his head out, looking for the source. In a flash, Clint was on him. He tackled him to the side, out of the view of the second guard. They tumbled on the ground for a minute, and Clint knocked the assault rifle out of the guard's hand. He grabbed it himself and brought it down on the guard head, instantly knocking him out.

Clint slung the rifle over his shoulder, wrapping the strap across his chest. He grabbed the guard by his vest and dragged him over to a janitorial closet that was nearby. He stripped the guard of his clothes and changed into them himself. He wiped the dripping blood off his face, wincing each time he touched it, hoping it would be ok enough so it wasn't noticed. He rolled up his tux and stuck it in an empty bucket, hidden. It was expensive and he personally liked the suit. It was pretty comfortable, and was in pretty good condition. For the most part.

He changed quickly, any more than a few minutes would make the other guard suspicious. Clint was weighed down by the heavy equipment on the suit, but he made it out. He found a cap in the closet and pulled it down over his face, so his eyes were hidden.

"Where's Johnston?" The second guard asked Clint with his eyes narrowed. Clint shrugged and took Johnston's old position across from him.

"He needed a break. I'm the relief." Clint lowered his voice when he answered. The guard looked at him skeptically, and Clint sighed. "I'm new. I started a few days ago." Clint made it sound it like he was disappointed.

The guard across from him seemed to accept that answer and relapsed into silence. After a few second Clint burst out with a question like an impatient schoolboy.

"What are we doing here? I mean- what are we guarding?" Clint asked playing his part, and the other guard rolled his eyes.

"Listen, kid. We don't get paid, and we definitely don't get paid to ask questions. So keep it to yourself."

"What your name?"

"Frankford, rookie. Yours?" One of the guard's eyebrows was raised but he let the question slide.

"Sloane. But aren't you ever curious? Don't you know at least what we're supposed to be protecting?" Clint whined in character, hoping he would be so annoying that the other guard would break.

Frankford looked up and down the hallway, making sure no one was there, listening to them. When it was clear, he crossed the hallway in three strides and stood in front of Clint.

"Listening closely, Sloane, cause I'm only telling you once." Clint could feel the heat and the puff of his breath when he was talking. His breath smelled like cigars, a bad habit to get into. The man was way too close for Clint to be comfortable with, but he had to control himself. All he wanted to do was kick him in the chest and push him back, but he focused on the words.

"The boss's got an auction. Something for the filthy rich, I think. Supposedly they have it all. Drugs, sex, rock and roll, that whole deal. I guess tonight he found something really good, and it's going to be a real high. If we're lucky, we'll get to join in as well. We're here to protect them." His hands motioned to the two doors behind them.

Clint had an underlining feeling that the big load of drugs was going to be that star. Frankford's bad cigarette breath and use of 'high' gave it away. But where did Natasha come in with this?

Why did Daniels take her? Clint didn't know if Daniels knew their real identities, but how could he find out?

Clint smiled evilly, catching the guard's eye. "Thanks, Frankford." Clint reached up and grabbed Frankford by the neck, snapping it in one quick movement. Clint originally was going to just knock him out, but he had gotten to close and was creepy. Clint dragged the dead guard to the closet where he had stashed Johnston. He threw them in there and used a broom from the inside to lock the door shut.

Clint returned back to the hallway and crept up to the two doors. The other door seemed intriguing to open, but Clint needed to get to Natasha first. He silently turned the doorknob and cracked the door open. Natasha was laying down, strapped to a metal chair that almost turned into a table, unconscious.

Clint was going to run inside and help her out when voices coming from the beginning of the hallway brought him back to his position. He shut the door behind him and stood straight against the wall, miming the positions of the other guards.

Daniels and another man were coming down the hallway, towards Natasha's door. Daniels was talking to the other man, who was dressed in a slick back suit. It matched his dark skin, and his head was shaved and shined. Tattoos crawled up from underneath his shirt and traveled around his neck. He was extremely tall, over 6'5", and his shoulders were almost as wide was Clint was tall. He was a monster. But the scariest part were the eyes. They were light but piercing. If looks could kill, everyone around him would be dead.

When he passed in front of Clint, Daniels froze. He turned on his heel and looked at Clint, confused. He pointed sideways and stared back at him. "Weren't there two if you before? I could've sworn there were."

Clint nodded his head, making sure the cap covered his eyes. He couldn't have Daniels recognizing him if their identities were compromised.

"Yes, I'm the relief. They needed a minute, and I filled in for them." He answered smoothly and Daniels believed it, moving on to Natasha's room. However, the man behind him stopped and stood in from of Clint, staring at the brim of his hat with the piercing eyes. Clint made sure to keep his head bowed out of respect and in concern of his true name being discovered. After when felt like years of stony silence, the taller man blew air out of his nose and walked towards Daniels.

They opened the door and Clint got one last glimpse of Natasha before the door shut behind him and he was locked out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, here's the next chapter, and I'm pretty excited about it! There really isn't much else, other than please review! Those are great! Enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha tugged at the straps tying her wrists to the table, trying to break free. But they were tied on tight, cutting off circulation to her hands. She wasn't going anywhere.

When she had woken up, Natasha's dress had been taken off, and she was left in the black tank top and dress shorts she had been wearing under her dress. Her sweat soaked skin mixed with the cold metal of the chair, making an uncomfortable mix. Her hair was still in, the flower still pinned in the back. If she could only reach it, she could use it as a weapon.

Suddenly, Natasha heard the door handle twist and she laid back down, shutting her eyes. To pretend to still be knocked would be her best bet in this. When the door opened, Natasha knew Daniels was one of the two people who came by the smell of his cologne alone. It was a very specific and expensive brand, one that only a few rich people could afford.

The other man, Natasha couldn't tell who it was. But something felt familiar about the man, and it gave the Natasha the chills. She knew him, but she didn't know from where.

She felt Daniels step over her, his face leaning dangerously close to her own. It took all of her control to not head-butt him right now.

"She's still out," Daniels turned to his partner, looking at him for an answer. He didn't answer, only turned and walked out of the door, his massive body barely fitting through the door frame.  
Daniels threw his hands up into the air and ran one hand through his hair. "Well, great, where is he going?" Daniels paced back and forth until he stopped in front of Natasha. He ran a hand down the side of her face, gently. She was a beautiful girl.

"If you weren't an imposter you would fit in well here." Daniels sighed and put his hands back into his pockets. "But, now we have to find out what name you're going by now because my friend says he knows you. I hope, when you wake up, you cooperate. I'm kind of afraid of Lev myself."

Daniels walked away and Natasha's mind blared warnings at her. She knew that name. But that name was of a man who died years ago, he couldn't be here today.

Then the door crashed open, and Lev walked in with two milk jugs full of water in his hands. He set one jug on the ground and open the over, walking straight for Natasha.

Daniels ran in front of him, waving his hands. "Whoa, whoa, wait! That drug is powerful, she'll wake up on her own. I don't think that will affect her while she's under."

Lev stared down at the smaller man and pushed past him. "She is awake," He growled, voice low and thick with a Russian accent. He poured half the jug of water on Natasha's face and she opened her eyes, sputtering. Water got in her eyes, throat, and nose, choking her. She shook her head, trying to get the water off her face. Her coughs racked her whole body, making the whole chair shake.

When she could breathe again, she made eye contact with the man, confirming her worst fears. Lev stood over her, jug aimed and ready to go another round. Natasha couldn't even believe it. Her Red Room officer had been on a mission with her when she made her first and only mistake. That mistake had gotten him killed. Natasha knew how to fake her own death, and make it decent too. But Lev had been right in front of her, and she had seen the blood and felt his heartbeat go out. She had even buried his body days later. It was not possible.

" _Hello again, my Widow_ ," Lev purred in Russian, his voice loud and clear now. Natasha turned her head away in disgust, not wanting to even see him.

" _Look at me_." He demanded, and Natasha had no choice but to follow. There were things about her past she could forget about, leave behind, but some was just instinct. They made eye contact and he smiled, his yellow teeth matching the nasty smelling breath.

" _You are still so beautiful_ ," He remarked, running his hand down the side of her face, just like Daniels had done a minute ago. But this time Natasha fought back. As soon as his hand came close enough, she turned and bit down on his hand, hard. She tasted blood and Lev ripped his hand out of her mouth, slapping her across the face with his other hand.

He muttered Russian curses under his breath while Daniels looked on, confused. "What is going on?" Lev took a step toward him, growling. Daniels held his hands up surrendering, and stepped to the back of the room, leaning against the wall.

" _Idiot! When will you ever learn_?" He hissed to Natasha who just stared up at him, searching his eyes for any sort of emotion.

" _Lev, you were dead. I saw it, and I buried you. How are you still here?_ " Natasha asked.

Lev grinned evilly and picked up the water jug again. " _Traitors don't get answers_." With that he poured the rest of the water out of that container onto her face, leaving her choking and coughing again.

" _Then kill me. Traitors are supposed to die, are they not_?" Natasha told him once she was able to breathe again.

Lev laughed, loud and ugly, and patted her shoulder awkwardly. " _In time, my Widow, in time_."

Lev walked to the back of the room and grabbed Daniels by the back of the neck, propelling him forward.

"Now you tell the name," He spoke in broken English, so Daniels could understand him. Natasha looked at the two of them defiantly, not saying anything. Lev pushed Daniels closer, so they were inches apart.

"Tell. Name. Now!" He shouted right in Natasha face, who laid there unflinching. She wasn't scared of him anymore, he couldn't do anything to her. After the intense stare-off, Lev back off and left the room for a second time, leaving the two of them alone.

Daniels stared at the girl on the table, half in awe and a half in disbelief. "You've really got some guts there, girlie." Natasha just stared at him until he was uncomfortable and turned away.  
Just then, the door opened back up, and a guard stuck his head through the door. His hat covered his face, but Natasha recognized his voice immediately.

"Sir, do you need any help? The other man just stormed out and…" Clint asked, catching eyes with Natasha as he talked. He winked at Natasha just as Daniels answered him.

"No, no, no, we're fine, go away. I don't think you're supposed to see this." Daniels waved him off and Clint obeyed, shutting the door after one last look at Natasha. It was good. She was alive, and he found him.

Natasha was happy, Clint had found her. Now she had a chance of getting out of her, and she didn't have to worry about Daniels finding out about him. He was hiding in plain sight. Then the door opened again, and Lev was back, holding a manila folder in his hands. He grabbed Daniels and set him behind Natasha. He instructed him to hold the sides of Natasha's head, forcing her to look nowhere but straight up.

Lev laid the folder on Natasha's legs and pulled out a stack of white-backed photographs. All of them were the same size, precision cut and sharp. He held them over her face, right in her line of view. She immediately shut her eyes, until Lev hit in her in the face again.

" _Open_ ," he commanded, and she did. It was of no use. The first photo was of a child, no more than five or six, with shocking green eyes and bright red hair. Herself. She was wearing a pink leotard, complete with a pink tutu and ballet shoes. Behind her stood an older lady, watching her closely. Madame B.

Natasha shut her eyes again, knowing exactly what was going on. She had seen this done on the other girls, and she herself had it done once. But once was enough to get the programming stuck in forever.

As Lev switched through the pictures, he spoke quietly in Russian, saying the words over and over again. Keywords were spoken to the girls before, and Lev was saying the exact same words now.

The programming that had been drilled into her brain at the young age, and hearing the same

words triggered it into overdrive. Like computer coding, all the English and parts of Natasha Romanoff that were in her head changed into Russian, and Natalia Romanova was coming back.

The pictures were snapshots from her own memories. Dancing in the ballet room as a child, trying to impress Madame B. Shooting in the training room, first at targets, then at people. Bad people, they had told her. Traitors. Traitors die. And she had believed it. Then came various missions. Where had all these pictures come from? Her standing over her first kill, the hospital fire, everything.

At first, Natasha fought it. Daniels held her head tight but she shook and pulled everywhere, trying to escape. She screamed, not wanting to go back to where she worked so long to get rid of. But then the programming took over, and her thrashing lessened until she was still on the chair.

Lev talked the entire, repeating the code phrases over and over again. Soon her mind corrupted, and there was no more Natasha. There was only the Black Widow: Natalia.

When Lev knew it had worked, he put away the picture back into the folder and stuck the folder into his back pocket. He turned to Daniels and motioned to Natalia.

"Untie her." His voice was low and threatening, so this time Daniels didn't even try to argue. Natalia stared straight up at the ceiling, unmoving, as Daniels cautiously undid the straps holding her to the chair. After all of them were removed Natalia moved like a robot, cold and stiff. Her eyes were dark and emotionless. The cold-blooded killer the Red Room had always wanted.

" _Hello, my Widow_ ," Lev said again when Natalia was standing in front of him, making eye contact. She broke out into an evil grin, one that hadn't come out in a long time.

" _Hello, officer_." Natalia stood with her hands folded behind her back, feet shoulder width apart, the ready stance. From here, she had been trained she could do anything. But not until she was told to do it.

" _Good. Show Daniels an example of what you can do_." He commanded, pointing to Geoffrey. Natalia turned and took long strides towards the man. Daniels looked around frantically until he saw the door.

He sprinted for it, but Natalia was faster. She jumped into a flying sidekick, hitting him square in the head. Daniels fell and Natalia landed on top of him, hands wrapped around his neck. She squeezed, cutting off his air and digging her nails into his neck. Daniels choked and pulled at her hands, but with no use, she wasn't letting go.

" _Natalia_." On his one-worded command, Natalia let go of his throat and was up standing next to her officer in seconds. Daniels gasped on the ground, trying to get all the air that was taken from him back.

"See? She good for the fight." Lev said and Daniels nodded, slowly sitting up.

"Yeah, yeah, she can go in, whatever, just don't touch me!" He shouted, scooting backward until he hit the wall.

Natalia looked up at her officer. " _Is he scared_?" Lev nodded, with a hint of a smile on his face.

Natalia copied the smile. " _Good_." She paused. " _What do I do now, sir_?"

Lev pushed her towards the door. "T _hat guard outside is a traitor. We need to take care of him. But do not kill him yet, we need information. Good luck, my Widow._ "

Natalia nodded, and swung open the door, intent on finding the traitor.


	11. Chapter 11

Clint stood outside the door, tapping his fingers impatiently on his thigh. He needed to know what was going on, and more importantly, he needed to know if Natasha was safe. He felt bad about the argument, and he was thinking of a way to apologize. Clint saw the massive man walking in and out a few times, looking angrier each time he came out. He made Clint nervous, but he stood in his spot, keeping up his cover as a guard.

Clint was busy counting the ceiling tiles above him when he heard the door crack open. He immediately dropped his head, hat covering his face once again. His eyes took a glance to the left and he saw a woman in a black tank top and dress shorts. Not anything that would fit Daniels or the other man. He looked up to see her face and it was her.

"Nat, thank God!" Clint's shoulder's dropped, falling from their tensed up position at the sight of his partner. "What happened to you in there?" When Natalia just stood there, staring at him with emotionless eyes, Clint became concerned.

"Natasha? Are you alright?" Natalia scowled at the name that he called her, and dropped into a fighting stance.

" _My name is not Natasha, and you are a filthy traitor. Traitors must die,"_ Natalia hissed at him in Russian, before launching herself at him. Clint immediately hit the ground, letting Natalia fly over the space he had just occupied. He almost hadn't dodged in time, and before he could get back up, Natalia was flying towards him again. He rolled to the side, the bare heel that came barreling down narrowly missing his head. He jumped back to his feet and raised his hands in surrender as Natalia held her fists out, teeth bared in a growl.

"Romanoff, what is going on?" Natalia jumped at him, fists flying. Clint used his arms to block the punches aimed for his face but missed the kick aimed at his bad knee. It connected and he went down, onto one leg, the other one throbbing behind him. Down on the ground, he continued to block her punches, until it opened up enough for him to get one of his own. He punched her in the gut and she stumbled backward, letting Clint stand back up.

His knee hurt, but he could stand. If he could do that, he could ignore the pain. He job depended on his ability to do so. A mission couldn't be compromised by a little thing such as pain. So at a young age, he learned the pain was just your brain, and you could control it. Block it all out. Then he didn't have to worry about it.

" _I am not Romanoff,"_ Natalia yelled, continuing in Russian and the two assassins circled each other with fists raised.

" _Who are you, then?"_ Clint asked in that language she was using, hoping to get a real reply out of her. Natalia didn't say anything yet, determined not to. This man knew her as someone else, and Natalia didn't know who he was referring too. There was only one of her, but sometimes a voice in the back of Natalia's head told her to do things her superiors wouldn't like. Maybe the man knew the voice. Odd.

Nevertheless, he was a traitor, traitors _must_ die. Natalia sprung forward again, aiming almost all of her attacks to his head. Clint blocked the ones aimed towards his legs and attempted to block the punches. All of them he successfully blocked, except for one. The punches aimed at his gut were easily blocked, but a fake out to the groin distracted him from her other fist flying towards the outside of his right thigh. The pressure point right in that area exploded by the punch, and it took enough of his attention for Natalia to gain more leverage.

With an open palm, she took his stumble and hit his inner elbow with the side of her hands. In two rapid movements, both of Clint's arms burst in immediate pain and were temporarily immobilized. A final punch to the liver brought Clint to his knees, breath coming in short gasps. It was a cheap shot, and Natalia knew it. But there was no such thing as a fair fight in real life. There was only a winner and a loser. And Natalia would always come out on top.

Grasping his neck with one hand, Natalia effortlessly lifted Clint up in a choke hold, cutting off every last bit of his air. Nothing would come in, and he pulled at her fingers, mind-boggling at the amount of strength Natalia was showing. Sure, she was stronger than most people, including himself, but she had never seen her with his much raw strength. It was terrifying.

Natalia walked forwards, pushing him back as her grip tighten around his throat. He attempted to kick at her, get some form of leverage, but it was no use. With a final push, Natalia slammed the traitor into the expensive wood paneling of a wall. Clint's head slammed back, the force sending stabs of pain into his head. More black spots danced in front of his eyes, matching the ones that loomed in the corners due to lack of oxygen. Clint gasped and tugged at Natalia's hands, digger his fingers inside. As soon as he got two of his fingers in between her hands and his neck, a little flood of oxygen came to his lungs, providing a little relief. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Natalia growled as she noticed herself slipping and tightened her grip. Her whole hand up against two fingers was nothing. Using the wall to help her, she lifted the man up by the neck, letting his feet dangle inches off the ground. His grey eyes widened as he gasped again, the need for air overtaking all of his instincts. He could feel his grip slipping, the missing oxygen affecting his muscle. Natalia watched with a scowl on her face as the traitor's arms dropped from their place around her hands and his head drooping; veins stood out around the top of his neck and his face was an ashen shade of white, going on blue.

Natalia couldn't look at him with anything less than disgust, but moments later she felt her grip slacking as she watched the man's eyes slip closed. The forbidden voice in the back of her head screamed at her, but she shut it down and re-tightened her grip. She was going to listen to her own traitorous mind. Otherwise, she would be killed, and the could not happen. In a sudden motion, she dropped her hand and the traitor fell to the floor with a thump. He was silent for a moment as he lay there, until he gasped, trying to take in all of the oxygen he missed in one breath. Natalia watched from a few feet away as he took in large breathes and coughed them back out, unsuccessfully filling his lungs with the much-needed air.

Natalia didn't know what was wrong with her. One minute she was holding the traitor against the wall, all prepared to take care of the problem, then the next thing she knew, she dropped him. That horrible voice had screamed over her own thoughts, telling her not to kill him.

Natalia didn't know why she didn't want to kill him, she didn't understand. Natalia did not know this man, but she could not kill him. And she hated herself with every fiber of her being for it. She watched with her hands on her hips as the man pushed himself onto his hands and knees, coughing loud and annoying.

" _Get up,"_ Natalia commanded, sticking to the language she was familiar with. The traitor's Russian was really good, improved from a few years of practice, so it was easier to use her mother tongue. Natalia didn't know that the traitor voice in her own head, the side of her that she didn't want out was the one who improved his Russian. But she didn't know this.

She grabbed the man by the bicep, squeezing painfully as she pulled him up to his feet. He coughed and she let go, the only thing keeping him up was the wall he was sagged against. One of his hands was pressed up against the wall, helping him keep balance. The other hand was protectively wrapped around his stomach.

" _Who are you? Why can't I kill you?"_ Natalia growled, stepping so her face was mere inches away from his.

" _You know me,"_ Was all Clint said, searching the assassin's green eyes for any sign of the Natasha he knew. Natalia didn't like that answer, and her fists made it very clear. She struck him across the face, knuckles connecting to the jaw, and back again the other way. Clint spits blood out of his mouth onto the ground next to him when she stopped, but he remained silent. Natalia could scream in frustration.

Natalia grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them against the wall at his side and brought her knee up into his gut over and over again. Clint grunted each time, eyes squeezed shut.

" _Who am I to you?"_ Natalia yelled over the sound of her knee hitting flesh. Clint's mind raced with a million answers.

 _Enemy. Assassin. Acquaintance. Co-worker. SHIELD Agent. Partner. Best Friend. Crush. Lover._

Everything she was and he wished she'd be.

Clint looked back at Natalia, wishing he just he had his Tasha back.

" _More than you know."_


	12. Chapter 12

Natalia's mind was reeling. She hadn't expected an answer anywhere close to that. _More than you know_. That was not answering any of her questions at all. She needed to know why that little part deep down inside of her didn't want to kill him. Natalia let her hand around his throat go, letting him fall to the ground. He landed on his hands and knees, coughing and holding his aching stomach. She paced back and forth in front of him as he struggled back to his feet. He kept most of his weight off his one injured knee and kept his arm wrapped around his midsection. Blood ran down his face freely, but not from the beating she had given him. She had seen the cut earlier, but it had been cleaned up and started to scab before she attacked. Now it ran down the side of his face, staining the collar of his guard shirt a dirty red. The hat he had been using to hide his face had been ripped off earlier and was discarded on the ground. Blood running from the corner of his mouth dropped onto the floor when he spits out a glob.

Natalia swore and anxiously stared at the door, where Lev was waiting for her to finish the job. Clint stood up facing her, using the wall for support. He watched the girl he thought was Natasha intensely, thinking back to the big man he had seen earlier. "What did he do to you?" He asked, mostly for himself. Natalia heard him and whipped around to stare at him, fury burning behind her eyes.

She backhanded quickly across the face and hissed at him. "You do not get to speak." She didn't know what she was going to do. In a sudden spark of rage, she turned on him, grabbing him by the throat again and reared her fist back, aiming to punch him in the face. She held him there for a minute, wanted to do something but hating herself for her inability to do so.

Just then, the door from the room she had just been in opened and Lev stepped out from the doorway and Natalia turned to him, a scowl on her face.

" _Natalia, don't,"_ Lev commanded and Natalia dropped her hold on the traitor, the little-rejected traitor inside of her rejoiced while Natalia wanted nothing to do with that same emotion.

Natalia dropped her head in front of her superior officer, looking at the ground. While she didn't fail her mission, she wouldn't have been able to complete it if Lev hadn't stepped in. Lev noticed this and grabbed her chin, gently, as if he was comforting a small child.

" _Do not fret, my Widow. You did not fail. I have found other plans for you and this traitor."_ Natalia relaxed and replaced her frown with her usual ready-to-kill smile. She nodded and resumed the ready position where Lev had stood while the man walked over to stand in front of the traitor.

Clint stopped leaning against the wall and stood his full height when the man he heard was called Lev stood in front of him. Clint scowled and stared into those deadly light eyes. Lev looked up and down the smaller man in front of him, before locking on the blood dripping down the side of his face. It obviously wasn't from anything Natalia could do, it was not created by a human. From the looks of it, Lev would've guessed it was a failed attempt to shoot the traitor in the head. Lev reached out to grab the traitor's chin to turn his head and look at it, but Clint knocked his hand away before he could get close. No way was the man going to touch him, not after what happened with Natasha.

"Don't touch me," Clint growled, bringing his face inches away from Lev's.

Lev smirked. "Feisty. You will do good," he commented in broken English, and it made Clint even angrier.

"What did you do to Romanoff?" He snarled and Lev gave a full laugh, even though his eyes shared none of the same feelings. They were dark, and blank. There was nothing behind them.

"There is no Romanoff. She Romanova, the fiercest Black Widow ever." He gave a blank smiled before reaching out for Clint. Clint blocked the arm and ducked underneath it, aiming a flurry of punches at Lev. One hit its mark, in the center of Lev's stomach, but it felt like hitting a brick wall. Lev blocked the other punches and sent one of his own at Clint's head. Clint blocked that one with both his hands, but the force of it made his bones shake. Effortlessly, Lev sent back a round of punches and kicks that hit an already exhausted Clint, who dropped to the ground. He crawled up to his knees, looking up at Lev with an unbridled fury. Lev didn't even see it.

He dropped to one knee, his mouth right next to Clint's ear. " _She's mine,"_ he whispered, only loud enough for Clint to hear, before bringing his elbow up and back down again on the back of his neck, knocking the assassin out.

As soon as it happened, a knot twisted in Natalia's stomach but she pushed it back down and forced a smile on her face. Lev turned back to her, wiping his hands on his pants. " _What now, sir?"_ She asked, and Daniels popped up right behind her, a nervous smiled on his face.

"Oh, goodie, you got him. Now it's time for the fun." Lev rolled his eyes when Daniels turned his back and Natalia almost laughed. Almost.

Lev stepped closer to Natalia and she took a deep breath, almost relaxing at the familiar scent of her handler. It brought back memories, good and bad, but it was familiar. Familiar was good. His hand pushed her hair back behind her ear, and ran down the side of her face, cupping her cheek. Natalia closed her eyes and leaned into the hand, forgetting about everything else.

" _I have to go now, my Widow."_ He said quietly, the Russian words bringing more comfort to her.

She didn't open her eyes when she replied. " _When will you be back?"_

Lev dropped his hand and shook his head. " _I won't. I'm not coming back this time, you will be on your own. But I trust you, My Widow. You will know what to do. You need to listen to Daniels, he will tell you what to do. Good luck."_ That was Lev, Natalia thought. Always treating everything like a mission. Except this was a mission. It was the mission of her life. She nodded and stepped back, bringing her feet shoulder length apart and giving Lev a salute. He nodded and turned away, leaving his Red Room operative to Daniels.

Daniels shifted on his feet uncomfortably, while Natalia stared him down. He looked over to Clint laying on the ground and looked at the Black Widow again. "Um, can we bring him to the back? I mean, do you need any help or-" Before he could finish, Natalia picked Clint up effortlessly and slung him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"Ok, you're good then. Good." He mumbled to himself and motioned for Natalia to follow him to the other door, the one that was kept a big secret. Daniels threw it open and Natalia followed obediently behind him, Clint hanging limply over her shoulder, bouncing gently with each step. Behind the door was a wooden floor stage, that was at equal height with the regular ground. Deep red curtains hung in front of it, closed to the outside.

"So there's my auction tonight first. This is where all the goods are. A bunch of artwork by some fancy artists whose name I can't pronounce, I stole those a long time ago. More artwork, a lot of those, a big haul of crack and heroin I pulled in, those go out to the drug lords that show up there." Something familiar struck Natalia when he talked about the drugs, but she shook her head and pushed it back down, ignoring it.

They walked across the stage, past all the 'goods', as he called them, and through another door leading to a dark hallway. Daniels flipped on a switch and a light on the ceiling turned on, barely lighting the dark room. The grey, dark walls were connected by metal bars, and people inside of the cells. It was a prison inside a mansion.

Daniels walked them down to the end of the hallway, were two cells right next to each other were open. He turned to Natalia. "Here, you can drop him in here."

Natalia did what he said and walked back out, standing in front of Daniels. "And I'm sorry, but you're going to have to be in this one. There's going to be a fight later. Come out on top, and you'll get to go home. Well, with the highest bidder, of course." He laughed to himself and Natalia just stared at him, face emotionless.

Daniels just shook his head and opened the cell door, and Natalia walked in, shivering a little from the damp cell. Daniels noticed this and frowned. "I know, it's cold. I'd give you my jacket, but, uh, it's pretty expensive." He looked around the little holding area, looking for something that he could give her. "Ah, got it."

Daniels walked into Clint's cell and stood over him, unbuttoning the stolen guard's long sleeve shirt, pulling it off Clint's unconscious body. He didn't need it. Daniels shut Clint's cell door behind him and walked inside Natalia's, handing her the shirt. Immediately she tugged it over her shoulders, wrapping it around her body.

"It won't be long, I promise. We'll start soon, then you can fight all you want." Daniels said and pulled Natalia's cell door shut behind him, before walking out of the hallway, and shutting the light off behind him. The rooms were plunged into darkness, not a single light.

Clint laid on the cold ground, his removed shirt revealing his bare chest, just like some of the other men that were in identical cells. Natalia sat up against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest, traitor's shirt tugged around her, keeping her warm as they waited.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys, I'm back! Quick disclaimer, once again in this chapter, I am diving into things that I have no previous experience or any real-life knowledge about, (anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD). I have portions where Clint was previously in the army and military and still struggles with situations from that. Just as I always say, I am not trying to offend anybody or anything, I am just trying to write a story (and be as scientifically correct about it at the same time...)**

 **Ok, so there's that, and now, REVIEWS!**

 **Katie MacAlpine: Yep, no problem at all!**

 **Alrighty guys, I really hope you enjoy! I'll be back soon!**

* * *

It was a steep climb back to consciousness. Clint was climbing, climbing, grasping rocks and mounds of dirt on the cliff to pull himself up. Up and away from the darkness below, to the light shining above him, just beyond reach. The light was painfully bright, and Clint almost wanted to let go, drop his hands and sink into the black, where it was blissfully pain-free.

As if they read his mind, the dirt in his grip-the only threads keeping him connected to reality-crumbled beneath his fingertips.

Then he was falling, hands clawing frantically at the cliff wall, trying to hang on to that thread of reality. With one final valiant, but unsuccessful effort, he lost his grip on dirt and reality, falling backward into the black, his mind spiraling downwards.

With that, Clint Barton was lost to the world.

Unlike the first time, this rise to the living world was instantaneous, and infinitely more painful. The bright light in his previous dream was a lie, there was barely any light in the entire room. The one light bulb attached to the ceiling was nowhere near Clint's own prison, and he was half grateful for it. The instant his eyes had snapped open he had been greeted with a relentless hammering in his head, behind his eyes, and at the base of his neck. A nearly silent moan escaped with an exhaled breath, no louder than an breathless whisper. Slowly, Clint twisted his head side to side, and bent his limbs, checking for injuries. His arms were fine, some sore if anything, and maybe a few bruises. His hissed as a stinging across his face stole his attention and he brought his hand up, briefly touching his cheek. The bullet graze was bleeding again, his hand coming away thick with blood.

Sudden voices caused Clint's heart to leap to his throat, and in the time of that heartbeat he had jumped up, fists held out in front of him, ready to fight off any threats.

 _Bang!_ Flesh hitting metal to his left swung his defense that direction, dilated eyes trying to peer through the darkness. _Bang!_ Another hit, this one across from him. He whirled that direction, rocking back on his feet. His heart pumped wildly, and soon it started to match the banging of the other prisoners hits.

 _bang… ba-dum… bang… ba-dum… bang bang… ba-dum ba-dum…_

Clint sucked in a breath, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. He ended up coughing, cracked and possibly broken ribs shifting across one another, making it hard to breath.

 _Bang! Bang!_ Heart pumping faster. _Ba-dum! Ba-dum!_

 _BANG!_ Someone switched from using their hands to their feet, kicking at the metal barr. Clint dropped instinctively, his straying mind not being able to differentiate between kicking and a gunshot. His breath hitched as it happened again and again. Clint clapped his hands over his ears, eyes squeezed tightly. He knew exactly what came next.

 _He was in Afghanistan, enemy snipers surrounding them at all against, trying to take out him and his crew one by one. The line of military Humvees broke through the dangerous terrain. Clint was in the second humvee, crouched down on the floor of the vehicle with an officer he didn't know._

On the floor of his cell, Clint curled into a ball, drawing his knees up against his bare chest. His ribs ground together even more, but trapped in his nightmarish-state, Clint didn't even notice. _Bang!_ Another kick.

 _Another gunshot. A red stain blossomed against the tan camo of the humvee driver, Clint's sergeant_. _Clint's head shot up from his makeshift protection behind the seat as the car banked left, off the road and dangerously close to a uncleared mine field. "Hang on, Sarge!" Barton shouted, and lept from the backseat, reaching across his unconscious sergeant to grab a hold of the wheel and steer them back to the road._

Clint uncurled himself from his position on the floor, mumbling "hang on" over and over under his breath. He pushed backward, until his back pressed up against the damp wall. He briefly thought of the fact that he was currently without a shirt, before one final bang snapped him back into the war. One of Daniel's guards kicked open the metal door to the cells, slamming metal to concrete, creating a sound that vibrates across the room. Clint let out a yell, scrambling backwards his mind showing him a different memory. The dark floors turned into bright yellow sand, and the single light bulb in the middle of the prison became a burning sun. His cell became the inside of the humvee and he was stuck watching the world through a cracked front windshield.

 _At the same bang, the humvee in front of Clint exploded, running over a hidden IED. The vehicle was thrown up in the air in a fireball, and Clint screamed. He tossed the wheel to the side to avoid the pillar of fire, running off the road. He slammed down on the brakes and the car squealed to a stop. He rolled into the passenger seat, and face his sergeant, pressing his hands down over the red stain across his chest. Eyes wide he watched the humvee burn, and snipers peppered the ground around them with bullets._

The nightmare ended with a final bang, this one mere feet from his face. Clint looked up to the cell door, watching the guard slamming his nightstick into the bars to get his attention. It took a minute for sounds to filter in, and the guard wasn't just moving his mouth as if he was mouthing to a song. Clint stood, hands trembling slightly, gulping down lungfuls of air. At this point, he didn't care who was watching now, he just needed to calm down, regain control.

Quick breath in, four seconds. Hold the breath in, seven seconds. Exhale through the mouth, eight seconds. He clenched and unclenched his fist when he got his breathing under control. A quick glance to his right and he saw Natasha, standing in the middle of her cell, his shirt wrapped around his shoulders. Her dress had been taken off, reduced to her dress shorts and a tank top. Her hair was still in the style he had put it up, but something was missing, but he couldn't quite tell what.

"Get moving! Back of the cell, back towards me, hands over your head!" Guards yelled into the mess, voices bouncing off the walls making it all louder than it really was. Clint took one final breath and relaxed, the temporary nightmares pushed to the back of his mind. The guards' flashlights temporarily blinded the prisoners, but Clint shut his eyes until he heard the creak of his cell door open and the rush of guards invading his space. He was calmer now, the guards now giving him a target, a mission.

As they yelled and blinded him, Clint peeked to Natasha's cell. Or, Natalia. Regularly, Natasha forgetting her name would just be classified as amnesia, but Clint guessed something more sinister at play. Something about the man that had been with Natasha, Lev, felt off with Clint. Plus with talking in constant Russian and other little clues, Clint suspected Red Room.

The two burly guards that had been put in charge of wrestling with him had no idea what they were in for. Clint smiled without any teeth, and jumped into action as soon as the first guard slapped a hand on Clint's shoulder.

Cracking his fingers, Clint lashed out and grabbed that guard's wrist and elbow, twisting it inward and using the momentum to swing himself out of the middle of the rom. As he pulled the soldier's arm out of it's socket, he heard a pop and a scream, ignoring both of them as his free hand shot out. He chopped the guard in the neck and he fell to the ground, gurgling and choking, one hand wrapped protectively around his neck. His head connected to the ground and the guard's eyes rolled into the back of his head, unconscious.

As Clint fought off the first one, the second guard got over the initial shock and drew his gun, aiming it at Clint's forehead as soon as they met face to face. As their eyes met, Clint smiled down the barrel of the gun, and the guard fired, without hesitation. A fraction before the guard pulled the trigger, Clint saw the movement and leaned to the side just as he fired. Someone screamed behind them and Clint's ears rung, but nobody cared.

He knocked the gun aside with the palm of his hand, and it fired again, the bullet biting into the concrete at their feet. His other hand chopped at the wrist of the guard, forcing him to drop the gun and draw his arm back. Clint dropped to the ground and swung his leg around, sweeping the legs of the guard out from underneath him. The guard fell and Clint punched him in the gut, and a final punch to the head knocked him out completely.

Clint sprinted out of his cage, slamming the door shut behind him, and was met by a line of guards, angry as ever. He felt another pair of eyes on him and he guessed they were Natasha. Natalia. Whoever. Clint cracked his neck, leaning his head from side to side, dropping into a fighting stance and readying for even more fun.

Watching the eyes of the guards in front of him he whipped around just in time to block the nightstick of a guard sneaking up behind him. Seemingly as soon as Clint touched him, the other guards swarmed like a pack of angry bees, surrounding him at all sides. Clint dodged punches and kicks and swings with a nightstick. He returned with the same moves, doing more damage even though he was outnumbered. He was angry. He was angry and tired and confused and this was a outlet, more than he'd care to admit. Not that he enjoyed being knocked out and kidnapped, but it was a relief to get some fighting in.

Soon every guard was focused on Clint, who was leaving a trail of bodies behind him. Two nightsticks swung at him, one at the head and one at the knees. He flipped forward, dodging those while also kicking another guard in the face, knocking him flat to the ground. As he landed, he missed a guard who had switched from his nightstick to a taser. Suddenly, his body was on fire as the two barbs implanted themselves in his chest. Every nerve in his body was electrified and he was temporarily paralyzed, falling to the ground with nothing to stop him.

The electricity stopped and he gasped for breath, but only got a moment of reprieve. The swarm of guards dove for the kill, beating him from all sides as he curled up, trying to protect himself as much as he could. It felt like an eternity, and Clint could feel every kick, every punch that was thrown at him. Then it stopped, and he was dragged back up into a standing position by strong hands on his biceps. His arms were forced roughly behind him back, and tight ropes were wrapped around multiple times, giving him no room to move. The extra rope they tied around his waist, so he could move his hands apart or from behind his back.

He glanced backwards as rough pushes in the shoulder shoved him forward, almost tripping on some of the passed out guards as he looked at Natasha's cell. She was looking back at him, with a microscopic frown on her face-the first sign of emotion he had seen out of her.

The last thing he saw before he was pushed out the door was the floor he had stuck in her hair, lying discarded on the ground of her cell, hidden in the shadows.


	14. Chapter 14

**Wow, it has been a really long time and I apologize about that, but I was working on NaNoWriMo stories, then with school exams, life has just been crazy, and it's taken me a long time to write even short chapters. But now I'm on break, so I will post more chapters until I have to go back again. I apologize for all this craziness and I have to thank all of you for being amazing readers and patient with me.**

 **REVIEWS**

 **Katie MacAlpine: Maybe? We'll see! ;)**

 **Quick note, there are scenes with drugs (not using them, but there) and some fight scenes later on. I don't know if I really need to put that, there's not going to be anything that bad, I do have some standards of my own and some lines I make that I won't cross. Nowadays you can just never tell so just putting this out there for future reference.**

 **Alright, I hope you all enjoy, and I'll be back soon!**

* * *

Clint was at second to last in the line, right in front of the girl who called herself Natalia. He was still trying to figure out how that worked himself. Dissociative disorder? No, Natasha would've told him about that. There were certain things you could keep from your partner, a few shameful past moments that didn't affect the relationship, and definitely wouldn't affect how a mission would turn out. Clint knew that Natasha was a stickler for a successful mission, and almost always said something if she believed she was incapable of completing the mission. The mission _always_ came first, according to her.

Clint best guess was not far from reality: mind control. It had happened to him when Loki had attacked New York, and it was not something he would enjoy going through again. To wish that on another person would be beyond imaginable.

The two guards that had been permanently assigned to him jostled him painfully in his shoulder, and he barely suppressed the growl that was building up in the back of his throat. He dared a glance behind him, Natalia was walking emotionlessly forward until she looked up and met his eyes. The guards next to him yelled at him to face forward, keep walking, and hit him in between his shoulder blades with the butt of the gun. He stumbled forward, and in the midst of the madness, Clint could have sworn he saw that same emotion flash through her eyes-a hopeful sign that his Natasha could come back to him.

All the prisoners were filed out of the cell and forced to stop on the edge of the wood floor, right behind the curtains Natalia remembered walking through. Clint glanced at the lineup before him as Daniels' voice filtered out through a speaker, cracking and breaking before it smoothed out.

" _Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to what I find is the best part of the night! Besides the drinking, of course,"_ Laughter erupted from the audience, proving the length that the alcohol was working. The line of prisoners was shuffled until they were the edge of the stage, but Clint still couldn't see Daniels, the stupid curtain was in the way. He debated making a move, overtaking the guards and grabbing Natasha and getting out of there, but the circumstance told him that it was not his best move. With the ropes binding his hands behind his back and connecting them to his waist gave him no leverage, he couldn't move his hands or arms at all. He had started working on the ropes and the knots, but whoever had tied them was skilled at tying knots, and definitely didn't want him to escape.

He was in okay shape, the pounding in his head was reduced to a dull ache after a long time of him trying to push it to the back of his mind. The graze on his cheek stung every once and a while, and it trailed down the side of his face and neck, leaving a few drops on his collarbone, but the bleeding had stopped. A cut on his temple and blood at the corner of his mouth joined the graze, and his bare torso was littered with bruises. His knee was giving him the most trouble, hot flashing pains traveling up his leg when he put pressure on it. This one was taking longer to ignore, but it would get there.

" _You all know how this works, we'll present the items, my buddy George will call out bids, and buy what you see fit! Everything shown tonight is for sale!"_ There was a pause as the audience started clapping. " _Then at the end, a never-seen-before part of the show, I personally cannot wait. So let the buying begin!"_

Bright lights snapped on the stage, so bright that even from the back it made Clint blink a few times. The lights weren't really helping for his headache, so he tried to look anywhere else, while also keeping an ear open for the auction items.

In total, there were eight prisoners in the line. Six men and two girls, one of them Natasha. It was obvious that Clint and Natasha were last-minute additions, they were healthy and not dressed in the same clothes. The other men in the line wore brown trash-bag looking suits, which were very much like prison jumpsuits, and heavy work boots. The other woman wore a similar style, however, hers was green and a little more form-fitting, but still the same boots on her feet. Clint's stolen shirt had been giving to Natasha-who was just in a tank top and shorts-and his shoes had mysteriously disappeared, so he was left with dark blue security guard pants.

As they all stood there in line, men and women pushed carts with various items and paintings and other valuable things past them and onto the stage as the auctioneer called them out. When a lady pushing a cart with a black bag zipped tight on the top walked by, it immediately caught Clint's attention and he focused on it as it disappeared around the curtain.

" _Here we have one of a few new items in the room, which I'm sure some of you will be excited to see,"_ Clint heard the bag unzip and gasps broke through the audience, and he knew it was what they were looking for.

" _This is it, folks. 200 pounds of cocaine, in thanks to our partnership with a few drug lords,"_ Sparse laughter floated around the room, but many were in shock. " _We will start the bid at fifteen million."_

Clint needed visual confirmation that those were the drugs SHIELD had sent them after, and he needed to get the buyer. So he waited, his fist clenched at his sides, waiting for the auctioneer to give out the final bid.

" _Can I get fifteen? Fifteen, thank you, how about twenty, can I get a twenty? Twenty million? Yes, thank you, ma'am, twenty million. Do I hear a twenty-five? Twenty-five? Going once for twenty, twice for twenty, Sold! Sold to the lady in the back with the red dress, thank you, ma'am."_

As soon as that happened, Clint decided to fake a coughing fit, and fit sideways out of line. His guards were taken by surprise and he fell even farther, just enough out of the curtains to glance at the drugs and pinpoint their buyer. As soon as he saw them he fell to the ground for extra dramatics, and his guards roughly picked him up, pushing him back into line. As soon as he was back, all the lights mysterious went out, leaving everyone in pitch black darkness.

" _Ladies and gentlemen."_ This time it was Daniel's' voice that broke through the speaker, and through the darkness, the line of prisoners was shuffled forward, presumably onto the stage. They were lined up side by side, their shoulders touching. Clint looked to his right, where Natasha would be trying to see her face, but even if his hands were untied and in front of his face, he wouldn't be able to see them.

" _Now, for the moment you've all be waiting for..."_ Then, spotlights clicked on and Clint was blinded with a sudden flash of light, illuminating himself and the other captives around him. He blinked and tried to look out into the crowd, but couldn't see any through the bright light.

" _Please meet your contestants for tonight's very first cage fight!"_


	15. Chapter 15

**Whew, guys, you have no idea how long it took me to break out of writer's block and get this chapter done. Definitely much longer than I originally planned. I had to finish one my biggest stories ever, so now that is done, I have more time thank goodness. This is a somewhat slow chapter, but the action will pick up.**

 ****important: this does have some fight scenes that can be considered graphic, so just warning. this one and the next chapter too, so just warning****

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Katie MacAlpine: Yep! They're in a world of trouble!**

 **JRastelliAuthor: Thank you so much, you have no idea how much that means to me, I'm glad you are enjoying it! Here's your update!**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: Yep, Perfectly Balanced is finished, and I'm finally back!**

 **Thanks to everyone who read this and reviewed it, you guys have no idea how much getting reviews means to me. They make me so happy! Anyway.. sorry for the super long wait, I know, but here the next chapter _finally_ is! Enjoy!**

* * *

" _Please meet your contestants for tonight's very first cage fight!"_

The words echoed around the room and cheers erupted from the drunken crowd. It took a moment for Clint's already concussed head for the words to register, and when it did he couldn't keep the surprise out of his face. Daniels continued to speak, announcing the rules of the fight. 'Contestants' would enter the ring two at a time, and fight for the winning spot. It was a fight to the death. Bets would be placed for the winner, and the champion would go to the highest bidder.

The line of prisoners was roughly pushed and shuffled back past the stage, with the rest of the crowd following not far behind. That curtain had opened up to show an empty room with a drained concrete swimming pool in the floor, sharp wire making a fence around it. Clint watched his surroundings wearily, taking note of positions through slightly blurred vision as they were marched to the holding area for the prisoners. Somewhat like the side benches in a hockey game, a blocked off section had chairs lined up with restraints for the fighters waiting to enter the match. Clint was pushed into the chair and he went limp, letting the guards do all the work. If this was about to happen, he needed all the strength he could get. Beside him, Natalia stared defiantly at her guards as they bucked her hands into the restraint. They got it done as quickly as possible, not making eye contact with the assassin and moving away. Natalia felt something tug at the corner of her lips, something foreign.

Natalia watched emotionlessly as the first two fighters were pulled from their seats and thrown into the ring. Two guards with guns strapped on their hips and nightsticks buzzing in their hands shepherd them into opposite corners of the pool. With a dramatic countdown, the guards jumped out of the way and the fighters launched at each other.

Within seconds blood was drawn and one of the fighters was laying on the ground, increasingly red hand covering the left side of his face. Blood ran through his fingertips and he groaned, while the other fighter pranced around the injured, an evil look in his face. The injured man only had a second to stand up and bring his hands back down into a defensive position before his opponent launched another attack. Clint caught a glimpse of the man's face and grimaced. Nails had raked down the side of the injured man's face leaving bright red gashes on his cheek and eye.

From there on Clint knew who was going to win this fight. The injured man took hit after hit, trying to save himself, but it was no use. Muscle toned legs were wrapped around the neck of the injured man as the hit the floor. Clint blinked and the injured man's neck was snapped by muscle-toned legs and the fight was over. The guards ran back out into the arena, one of them lifting the victor's hand in celebration like he didn't just kill another man. The crowd cheered for more bloodshed, and the final bids were put in place for the fighter. As the announcer shouted out the name of the buyer, Clint could've sworn he saw tears on the victor's face. The rest of Daniels' guards picked up the body and unceremoniously dragged out of the makeshift ring.

To Clint's left was Natasha/Natalia, whatever brainwashed version of herself was called, and the last person on the bench. To his right were two vacant chairs where the first fighters had gone out, and the next two were being grabbed by guards. If the pattern kept going, there would only be one more fight before Clint had to go, and he would face off Natasha.

 _Natalia_ , he reminded himself again and could only frown. Whatever screwed up tactics the Red Room guy had installed in Natasha made her think she was someone else, and much more deadly. Clint knew from first-hand experience that Natasha was the deadliest person he had ever met. He noticed when she first entered a room or met a new person, she figured out which was the easiest way to kill and escape. In and out, in a matter of seconds.

So know that she was without memories of them working together or even knowing each other, he posed as a real threat to the Black Widow. And threats were not tolerated.

The next battle went by in a blink of an eye, almost as if it lasted a matter of seconds. Clint could tell the crowd wasn't liking these easy in easy out battles. Even with the death and the blood, they weren't satisfied, and that made Clint all the more nervous. He had been caught in bad situations before, but he was never forced into a cage fight to the death with the crowd screaming for more. He pulled at the restraints, nimble fingers running over the locks and chains connecting him to the bench, with no luck. After all the stunts he pulled earlier, he was not surprised at all.

In an almost unconscious move, he switched over to the locks he could reach on Natasha's hands, trying to get hers undone. Maybe if he got his partner out, she could help him out. When her hands jerked away at the touch, he remembered again. Natalia. She stared at him with wild eyes and back down to the restraints.

Natalia couldn't figure out what the man was doing. The little traitorous voice in the back of her mind screamed that he was a friend, he was trying to help her. But he was a traitor. How could a traitor help her, be her friend, unless she was a traitor? So when she felt hands working out the cuff that kept her hands to the bench, she jerked away. Traitors deserved this, why was he trying to get out?

As the next two fighters were pulled to the ring-the last one before Clint would be forced to fight his partner-Clint made a final attempt to get through Natalia.

" _Romanova, you need to trust me, I can get us out of this,_ " He spoke fiercely but nearly silent in Russian, hoping to appeal to the brainwashed Black Widow. Side by side, both the assassins kept their eyes set straight ahead, watching the fight unfolding in front of them, Clint's mouth barely moving. The guards paced back and forth behind the bench, and Clint was not going to get caught again.

Natalia heard the words but chose to ignore them, much to the protest of the voice in the back of her head. _He's trying to help you, just listen to him,_ it argued, but Natalia couldn't trust anybody. She wasn't even so sure that she could trust herself anymore.

" _I don't know what Lev did, but this isn't you. You need to come back to me."_

At the mention of her officer's name, she couldn't hold back the snarl that grew up in the back of her throat. If her hands were free, they would be wrapped around the man's neck slowly squeezing the life out of him.

" _Do not speak his name,_ " She hissed and Clint raised his eyebrows.

" _Fine, but you gotta admit, something's off. Don't tell me that everything thing about his feels right."_ He paused and his face softened. " _Don't tell there's no Natasha left."_ Natalia stared at his eyes, light grey with a hint of blue and green. The light shone in them, and it was almost like they could change with a moments notice. Natalia felt something inside her shift and for half a moment she didn't want to fight him. She knew those eyes.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could say anything, a gunshot rang out in the ring and caught everyone's attention. The crowd gasped as one of Daniels' guards had his gun pointed into the makeshift ring, smoking pouring off the end of his gun. One of the fighters had attempted to climb up the pool to escape, and the guard and ended him like that. The other fighter was frozen in his spot, and the guards turned towards him. Hand raised in the air and Clint could practically smell the fear radiating off the fighter. He shook his head as the guard aimed his gun at the fighter, and he spoke in a language Clint didn't understand. But what he was saying was loud and clear. Without a second thought or even a chance to understand the fighter, a second gunshot rang out and he was dead too.

The crowd was shocked into silence for a brief moment before they broke back out into frantic and curious whispers. The guards dragged out the bodies, leaving two bloody streaks on the already stained pool floor.

" _Finally, ladies and gentlemen, for our last fight of the night we have two very special guests,"_ the announcer shouted out when he got the crowd to quiet down and Clint and Natalia were forced up from their seats. Clint tried to get one final message out to his partner, but they were walked to opposite sides and pushed into the ring. Clint had a guard in front of him, one hand on the archer's chest keeping him from moving forward.

" _Prepare yourselves for the fight of the century ladies and gentlemen, because fighting against newcomer Brad Sloan is none other than the Black Widow herself!"_

The crowd roared and the guards stepped away from the two fighters. Spotlights came down in the middle, hovering over Clint and Natalia as they started to circle. Any progress Clint had made while they were on the bench fell away and was replaced by a sadistic grin on Natalia's face as she brought up her fists. Clint's heartbeat pounded in his ears and for the first time since he convinced the Black Widow to join him, Clint was _scared._


	16. Chapter 16

**Wow, guys, I'm sorry it's been such a long time. I've been insanely busy but I hope I've made it up to you with this really long chapter. All my other stories are finished as well, so I am working full time on this bad boy! I'm not going to hold you too long, just wanted to let you know yes I'm still alive and I'm working, plus leaving you with a pretty big cliffhanger. Oops?**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: Definitely heating up! Sorry for the wait, here you go!**

 **Loki-Sirius Black-Firestar: Heres the update! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Katie MacAlpine: I guess you'll just have to wait and see...**

 **Alright guys, enjoy the chapter and... don't kill me? Please?**

* * *

The bell rang and Clint flipped like a switch. He was in full assassin mode, and while it was his partner he was fighting, he needed to be at the top of his game to even have a _chance_ of keeping up with her. Clint was a proud man, and he was confident in his own abilities. Sure, he was cocky and would throw up the act of being overconfident, but Clint was more humble than he cared to admit sometimes. And this was one of his situations. Sparring in the SHIELD gym, Clint knew he could hold his own with Natasha, even getting a few hits of his own. Clint was one of the best. But now with _Natalia_ , completely unhinged, Clint didn't even stand a chance.

Natalia watched the man's every move, watched him contemplate with himself. What could he possibly be thinking about at a time like this? Natalia's hands twitched and she was itching for a fight, and a good one. She had been watching the previous fights and could pick out the flaws mere seconds after the fight started. She would've killed them in seconds. Looking up and down her new target, she knew she was already at an advantage. The man was already bloodied and limping on one leg, even when he tried to hide it. Dulled eyes that couldn't keep focus on her led to a concussion, a minor one at best. But Lev never did anything with remorse. If he meant to hit someone, he hit them. He implanted that knowledge into her. She learned from the best.

Daniels watched the two "fight of the century" fighters circle each other like wrestlers in the ring. The anticipation had been buzzing throughout the crowd at the start of the fight, but with no one making the first move, they started to get impatient. The once joyful cheers one by one turned into boo's when no action was created, and Daniels knew he was going to lose interest with one second more of this snooze-fest. He bit his thumbnail, a bad habit he had tried to break for years with no luck as he tried to think of an idea. He knew the girl would beat the other man in a heartbeat, but something was holding her back. Daniels just had no idea what.

A quick glance to his guards brought on an idea. Sprinting over to the edge of the make-shift fight ring, he swiped the knife strapped to one of the guards legs and tossed it into the ring. The two fighters watching the knife as it fell-seemingly in slow motion-towards the middle of the pit. The crowd grew silent and the clank of metal against concrete could be heard throughout the whole auditorium. A heartbeat passed when Clint and Natalia made eye contact before they both lunged for the knife.

The metal tip pointed towards Clint and he grabbed at the smooth sides of the metal just as Natalia wrapped her hand around the handle. It slipped out of Clint's grip and he rolled onto his back, looking up at Natalia for just a second before she cocked her arm back, knife glittering in the flashy lights.

Clint's senses started working in overload and time slowed.

He _saw_ the colors, all of them overly bright. The deep grey of the ceiling, cracked and needing some serious repairs. The black of the guard's outfit surrounding the ring. And red. Too much red. Red in the curtains, pulled back and tied tightly together, much like how Clint felt. Red on the floor, streaked and splatter from the fallen fighters before them. Red on his clothes and his hands, knowing the life force that held him together was waiting to be spilled. Red in Natalia's fiery hair was too real, looking like actual fire. Green piercing eyes flashed dangerously, staring daggers at him with a ferociously she had never seen before.

He _heard_ each breath. Logic and his hearing aids told him he wasn't actually hearing the sounds of each breath, but it felt like it. The sharp intake of breath from the crowd, waiting in anticipation for the killing to begin. The short exhale from the guards as they watched from the sidelines, a game for them. The quick and precise breathes from Natalia, not one out of place and keeping her focused. His own ragged, panting breaths. Sore ribs and bruised skin kept him from taking a full breath, and there was an unfamiliar rattle in his chest.

He _tasted_ the blood in his mouth. The coppery metallic pang on his tongue had increased with every hit to his face, each time running his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all still there. Blood mixed with saliva as it ran down the back of his throat and soon came back up with a wave of nausea. Sweat dripped into the corners of his mouth, muddled mind thinking it was water and swallowed it greedily. The salty taste and the instant quench for actual water made him realize his mistake.

He _felt_ the grit and dirt under his fingers. Dirt stacked up a mile high on the pool floor, getting under his nails when his fingers dug into the ground. The grime dug into open wounds on his arms and naked back lying on the uneven ground, getting deeper and deeper into the skin. The beat of his heart matched the pounding in his head, beating harder and harder until he was sure his head was going to explode.

He _smelled_ the anticipation in the air. Along with the reek of sweat, feces and the lust for blood in the crowd. Prisoners were kept in tight jail cells, forced to stay there twenty-four hours a day, every day gave no other option to relieve themselves. The smell stayed on their body and their clothes as they occasionally traveled out. In the metaphorical sense the crowd's anticipation was so thick he could practically smell it.

All this happened in a matter of seconds as Clint watched Natalia's arm come down with the knife.

At the last possible moment, Clint rolled to the side and felt the brush of cool metal against his neck as Natalia tried to stab him with it. He glanced over at the knife implanted the hard concrete, centimeters from his face. With a jolt, time sped back up and Clint rocked backward, pushing up on his hands to jump up from lying down to his feet. They were back where they started, this time the knife in Clint's hand. Natalia snarled and made a lunge for the knife which Clint sidestepped. In a moment of her confusion, Clint turned on his heel and chucked the knife as far as he could out of the arena into the crowd. The audience broke out into screams as the metal flew towards them, scattering out of the way for it to land on the ground.

The two fighters reacted and turned towards the sound of cocking guns, staring at the guards as they prepared their weapons to fire on the fighters. In an act of unconscious movement, Natalia stuck a shaking had out and stepped ahead of Clint, giving bare protection. Daniels watched and his eyebrows furrowed, giving a signal to the guards not to shoot. He wanted to see where this was going.

Natalia stared at her own traitor hand as she realized what she just did. Clint looked up in equal shock, with a sliver of hope hiding behind blue-grey eyes. Natalia knew it was her traitorous mind, the _Natasha_ the man kept talking about. Natalia knew the longer the fight went on, the easier it was for Lev's programming to wear off and for the traitor to come back.

Natalia watched at the man's eyes softened and she felt the growl climb up her throat. She was not going to let him win. He was going to die at her hands, and she was going to make a slow and painful death. He would never see _Natasha_ again, instead, he was going to die while she watched in the back of Natalia's mind.

Natalia lashed out, leaping at Clint when he didn't expect it and the crowd went wild. Clint barely had time to put his arms up to block the onslaught of punches and hits coming from every angle. At first, Natalia used a pattern that Clint recognized, one of the ones Natasha used when they were sparring. Uppercut followed back two punches to the head, knee to the gut and hands around the neck to snap it. Clint blocked all of them which only fueled Natalia's rage-induced fighting.

" _What are you doing?"_ She hissed at him as he played defensive. " _Fight back!"_ Clint didn't want to move to offense. He knew he wouldn't win anyway, and as much as he wanted to stay alive, he didn't want to hurt Natasha when she didn't know what she was doing.

"I'm not going to fight you."

Natalia understood the English, and something resounded inside her, with the traitor voice. That voice pulled at her heartstrings, surprising her at the fact that she even had them. Her cold-blooded heart didn't have emotion, but something was different.

" _Coward!"_ She screamed, putting everything she had into beating the man. She was the Black Widow. The Black Widow never lost, and she wasn't going to let some man get in the way of that.

At the speed she was throwing punches, Clint could barely keep up anymore. He was blocking less and less, he was out of energy. A punch to the gut knocked the wind out of him and he fell forward, only to but pushed back up with a punch to the jaw. Hands on his chest pushed him backward until he was pressed up against the smooth wall of the pool. One eye was nearly swollen shut and the other's vision was blurred. Blood covered half of his face and nearly all of his chest, and he couldn't stand up on his own. Natalia keeping him pinned to the wall was the only way he was up, and he knew he wasn't coming back from this. Clint often found himself in tight situations, but there was always a way out. This time, there wasn't.

 _Do it now!_ A familiar voice ran through Natalia's head as she stared at the man in her mercy in front of him. Memories flipped through her head like a movie, and something changed. Clint noticed this hesitation and a spark of hope ignited in his chest. There was one thing that he could try, and he prayed it would work.

"Natasha." Rabid eyes whipped to meet his, recognizing the name. Natalia fought back as the Natasha in the back of her head grew stronger. Clint managed a half-cocked bloody grin that looked almost maniacal.

"You're not fighting alone anymore."

Natalia gasped as Natasha took control, memories of a hotel in Budapest not long ago.

' _Do it now!' the voices hissed at her, and Romanoff's training took over. She wouldn't make this painful, just quick and then run. Maybe she would sell the information he had shared with her. But now she had to watch out for the Red Room because she didn't kill her target. She had failed her mission, and she had become the next mission. They would come and kill her. She knew that they had already found out and started searching for her already._

 _Acting purely on instinct, Romanoff silent got off the bed, unsheathed her knife and snuck up behind Barton. Her bare feet padded the ground, not making a noise with the carpet, and stopped when she was directly behind him. She switched the knife to her right hand and immediately grabbed his shoulder with her left, dragging him back towards her. Her knife hand came down right next to his throat until her hand got caught on something._

 _To her surprise Barton had caught her hand before it broke the skin and twisted her wrist around, forcing her to drop the knife. He kicked the knife towards the wall, out of her reach. Not giving her any time to act, Barton dropped to his knees and pulled her arm around her back, standing back up while shoving her arm behind her back painfully. He pushed her forward until she hit the wall, head connecting with the drywall, immobilizing her._

 _"What was that!?" Barton got right down next to her ear and shouted, swearing when she didn't answer. Barton held her in that position as the tension in the room pulsed which each heartbeat, before slowly releasing her. As soon as she was free, Romanoff spun around and stared wildly at Barton, the two assassins facing off. Romanoff growled, still not thinking straight and her fist clenched and unclenched at her sides, wanting to hit something._

" _You're not fighting alone anymore."_

Natasha shook her head and sucked in a deep breath, breathing heavily as her eyes searched the scene.

"Natasha?" The broken voice of Clint caught her attention and she gasped at the damage. The damage she had caused. She had been trapped behind Natalia, behind all the Red Room programming, unable to do anything but watch.

"Natasha," she nodded, confirming it was her. She felt Clint sag under her hands and his arms started to slip shut in relief.

"Barton," she hissed, sending a sideways glance at the guards above them. "We have to get out of here but…"

"...One of us has to die. I know." Clint had watched. There couldn't be two winners. Besides, it was a fight to the death. "Do it."

With a smooth clean motion she had practiced many times, Natasha wrapped her hands around Clint's neck and snapped it soundlessly. The crowd cheered as his body slid to the floor motionless, and Natasha stared at the blood in her hands and the overflowing red in her ledger.


	17. Chapter 17

**Whew, sorry that took so long. Currently, I am using this story in Camp NaNoWriMo, so if I meet my goal this story should be finished by the end of the month, but we'll see. This is a short-ish chapter, but also one where I had to work through major writer's block so hopefully after this, the story will start flowing again.**

 **And I know there was a bunch of confusion on what happened in the last chapter, but this will explain it. If you have more questions or didn't think I explained it well enough, let me know and I'll fix it! :)**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Guest: No it's not a dream, but you'll figure it out this chapter!**

 **Loki-Sirius Black-Firestar: I couldn't let my favorite character die... right? ;)**

 **Katie MacAlpine: Yes, it is nice to have Natasha back, and you might be right?**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: Yeah, it's always fun to throw in a cliffhanger like that in.**

 **Alright guys, enjoy! I'll be back soon!**

* * *

Natasha was silent as the guards jumped down into the pool, two of them grabbing Clint while the other sidled up next to Natasha. He grabbed her wrist and held it up in the air like a wrestler who had just been crowned champion. The crowd went wild, their screams nearly drowning out Natasha's own thoughts. Out the corner of her eye, she watched as Clint was dragged away out of sight behind a curtain.

Natasha's breath shuddered as she was allowed a moment to close her eyes. Memories flooded back in, just a trickle until it exploded into a waterfall. She staggered back at the mental assault, getting a strange look from the guard. She remembered everything. The night before, getting her dress and flowers. Entering the party, the jittering nervousness she felt that slowly was eased with her partner by her side. The overwhelming sense of jealousy when she saw him talking to other women. The argument. Running into Daniels. Seeing her old Red Room officer and being compromised. Attacking Clint out in the hallway before Lev stopped her. Watching him struggle through a flashback. Fighting him in a cage to the death.

Seeing the image of Clint beaten and bloodied, not only in front of her but by her own hand, was almost too much to bear. Glancing down at her hand that wasn't being held up by the guard, she rubbed it against her shorts, trying to get the staining red off.

Over and over again Natasha had to tell herself she did the right thing, getting him out of the ring. Right before the nightmare began, Daniels announced it was a fight to the death. Either the fighters killed their opponent or—as they saw with two of the previous fighters—the guards would kill them as soon as they stepped out of line. In the few seconds that Natasha turned back to herself, not the psycho brainwashed version of what she used to be, she and Clint came up with a plan. Only the first part was figured out, the rest would have to be on the run. The crowds cheered as the remaining winners were brought down into the ring surrounded by guards. The auctioneer started down the room, listing off prices and the buyers fought over the winners. Natasha kept her stare steady into the crowd, listening to everything and preparing herself. She finished her part, now it was time for Clint to do his.

Clint's feet dragged across the crowd, the guards barely holding his body up by his arms. When he couldn't hold his breath any longer, he sucked in a silent gasp of air restoring his aching lungs and acting dead once again.

As soon Clint looked into Natasha's eyes and noticed the recognition, he didn't know how he felt. He was overwhelming relieved, but they also faced a problem. Without one of them dying, neither of them could escape. So the master assassins pulled out a move they had been working on in their free time before the mission. One of the skills one needed to be a master assassin was acting. If you couldn't act well enough under pressure to get information or execute a move, you were a dead man.

The "dead man's switch" as the assassins called it had been practiced for months until it was down perfectly. A sharp twist and a lot of pressure were all that one needed to break a neck. So the assassins worked on it until they made just the right movement so it _looked_ like they broke the other's neck. Some acting from the "dead man" was all that was left, then you were left with a fake death. They had never used it out in the field before, but it was a first time for everything. Even in the seconds, they had to plan it, Natasha executed the move perfectly and Daniels' guards didn't suspect a thing. Clint Barton was "dead".

The guards laughed and joked with each other, pointing out specifics and things they liked about the fights while they dragged Clint along the hallways. Clint memorized the turns and the path he took until they stopped in front of a heavy door. The guards unceremoniously dropped Clint to the floor, who had to bite back a groan when his battered body connected with the concrete floor. His eyes were shut so he relied on the buzzed hearing through his hearing aids to figure out what was going on. The door groaned as it was opened and immediately Clint was hit with the stench of rotten eggs and meat. Right after, he felt hands under his arms and legs, and he was thrown into the smell.

Clint heard the door shut behind him and he hit something soft. Clint waited a few minutes more to make sure the guards were actually gone before he sucked in a breath. He breathed through his mouth because if his nose got any more of the stench he would puke. He opened his eyes slowly, his left eye not fully open due to swelling. As much as he hated to admit it, Natasha did a number on him. Clint saw the old room with rotten wood as walls and a metal door blocking the entrance. There were no windows, no ventilation system, just four walls, and a door. Clint turned his head to the side to get a look at what he landed on and barely held back his scream.

A partly decomposed face looked back at him, and Clint moved as fast as he could to the door. For the moment of panic he forgot how much his body actually hurt, he just needed to get to the door as fast as possible. As he sank to the floor with his back pressed to the cool metal of the door, he stared at the piles of dead bodies in front of him. Bile crawled up his throat and he lost the battle to keep the vomit in his body. He threw up nearly all the food he had eaten for the last week, aching body shaking in the effort. Clint wiped his mouth with his arm and sat back up. He needed to focus less on the massive amount of dead bodies in front of him and more on escaping.

Leaning against the door, Clint took stock of his injuries and what needed the most attention. The constant pounding in his head, double vision and vomiting already told him he had a concussion, and a nasty one at that. His face was sticky from blood and felt like a giant bruise. He gently touched his cheek where the bullet had scratched it, feeling the blood flowing freely again. His right arm was almost useless from the shoulder he had dislocated, and he knew the sooner that went back in the better off he would be. Laying back on the floor, Clint moved as close to the door as possible while his right arm was in the remaining floor space. He slowly moved it until his forearm and palm were face up and his elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle. With his body completely relaxed, he slowly moved his entire arm until his fist was near his head, still in the ninety degrees. He could feel the bones grinding and the muscles in his shoulders, but the sooner he got it in, the less pain he would feel. He continued the motion until his forearm was touching the top of his head, and he felt and heard a pop. He groaned in sweet relief with his shoulder back into its proper place. Re-adjusting himself back up against the door, he finished his examination. At least two if not more ribs felt cracked or broken, but he couldn't do much about those. His knee throbbed and he doubted he could put pressure on it, but he would have to live. Besides those he was covered in blood that was mostly his own and bruises littered his body.

Clint still didn't have a shirt or shoes, but he wasn't willing to steal them off of a dead and decaying body. Clint shut his eyes for a second, preparing for the second part. He needed to get out of here to find Natasha and get out. Praying that the guards wouldn't bother to lock a door full of dead bodies, Clint tried the door hand.

He almost cried out in relief when the handle opened up easily and the door creaked open. His relief was short lived however when he heard two guards walking down the hallway and he had to shut the door quickly. He lay back down on top of the body where he was first thrown, and held his breath as one of the guards opened the door to check inside. Finding everything in place, the guard closed the door once again and Clint sighed deeply. That was close. Too close.

Barton resumed the spot next to the door, pressing his ear up against it to check for noises. When he was sure it was clear, Barton cracked open the door and slowly moved out of the room. The hallway was empty and there were no cameras, so he was free. He was out so all he had to do was find Natasha and get out.


	18. Chapter 18

**Two in one night! I'm really working on this story guys, trying to make it the best it can be.**

 **REVIEWS**

 **Katie MacAlpine: Yeah I know, pretty disgusting. We'll see about Lev...**

 **Alrighty, guys enjoy this chapter! I'll be back hopefully with another chapter tomorrow!**

* * *

Natasha stood frozen on top of the podium, the other winners on either side of her. They were on the same stage where they were first shown off to the crowd. Except instead of drugs and artwork going up for auction, now it was the fighters. Natasha watched as Daniels stood on the edge of the stage, face lit up in a pleased smile. The thought made Natasha sick to her stomach. The auctioneer went down the row, stopping to call out each winner as the people on the floor held up their paddles. One by one the winners were sold off to the highest bidder, who then walked out of the mansion to never be seen again.

Natasha watched Daniels closely and didn't even notice as the auctioneer walked right up in front of her. He called out a price and it shot higher and higher as the bidders fought to take control of easily the most powerful fighter in the room. Natasha would've been paying attention, except for movement in the back of the room caught her eye. Making it so only her eyes gave away what she was doing, she followed the movement of the figure. He was a shadow, a figure in the dark until a beam of light hit him and she recognized the determined face. Clint. She gave a silent sigh of relief knowing that he had gotten out alright. She almost smiled knowing that their plan was working and they'd soon be out of there, but it dropped nearly a second later. When he passed under another beam of light she got a glimpse and a reminder of how bad he looked. She knew that he would be able to hold on until the mission was over, and even after. Clint Barton was one of the strongest men she had ever met. But every man had their limit. They needed to get out of there, fast. The sooner, the better.

"Sold!" The one-worded shout broke Natasha out of her thoughts and she stared at the auctioneer. Suddenly, a hand reached out from the audience and grabbed her arm, pulling her off the stage. Normally, she would've reacted instantly by grabbing the hand and twisting around, snapping some fingers and possibly a wrist in the process, but she held back. She knew she would have a better shot of breaking free once she was out of the mansion and not surrounded by guards with twitching trigger-fingers. The slender fingers dug into the flesh of her arm, perfectly painted black nails perfectly manicured without a single flaw. Natasha took one look at the woman who was holding her arm, curled brown hair floating down her back, sleek black dress with two-inch heels. The woman never made eye contact with her fighter, but if she had Natasha would've noticed a perfect case of heterochromia, one eye a striking blue while the other was a deep amber. The woman was a complete stranger and oddly familiar all at the same time. But Natasha didn't take notice, she only counted the fifteen different ways she could kill the woman with minimum attention. Natasha knew she could take her easily.

The woman pulled Natasha through the doorway of the auditorium and outside into the fresh air. Natasha sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes as she walked. It felt good to be outside. As expected, as soon as they were free Natasha was forced around and a heavy pair of handcuffs were locked on her hands behind her back. Once they were secure the woman retook her position next to Natasha and walked her to the sidewalk. Armed guards surrounded a stretch limo, glittering in the moonlight with a fresh wax. The side door was open and the driver motioned them inside, but Natasha had no intention of getting in the car.

Whipping around, Natasha caught the woman in the stomach with a heavy sidekick. She fell to the ground in surprise and kicked a second time at the woman's head, knocking her out completely. She felt the movement of a guard behind her and she kicked backward, catching the man in the very private part. He sunk to the ground and another kick made him follow his boss. Natasha searched around for the other guards until huge arms wrapped around her stomach and lifted her off the ground. Natasha felt the breath get squeezed out of her lungs and she kicked viciously, trying to get him off. Right before she saw black spots in her vision from lack of oxygen she heard a heavy _thud_ and the man holding her dropped to the ground, on top of Natasha. She pushed the guard off her and looked up into the face of her partner, a lopsided grin on his face and a tree branch in his hand.

"Clint," Natasha said breathlessly, rolling to her knees and standing up to face him. He dropped the branched to wrap one arm around his ribs, while the other pulled Natasha into a tight hug.

"I thought I lost you," Clint whispered into her hair as she rested her head into his shoulder.

"Me too."

The assassins stood there silent and unmoving until Clint felt his knee buckle under him. With her arms still handcuffed behind her back, Natasha could only hope that her body helped him steady. Right then the door behind them opened with the next auction and winner. Natasha used her shoulder to push Clint over into the corner in the shadows, out of sight. When Clint leaned up against the column to catch his breath, Natasha used an old trick to slip out of the handcuffs, leaving them with her partner. Bare feet stepping silently, Natasha snuck up behind the bidder and snapped his neck in one movement.

"Go, run," she commanded to the frozen fighter. With a blink, he stared at Natasha then at the dead body in front of him, then took off.

"We need to go," Clint said, limping towards her. His energy was draining. If Daniels realized that the fighters were escaping, he didn't know if he could make it through another fight. Natasha took a look around for a ride until her eyes laid on the limo in front of them and her face broke out into a smile. Clint met her eye and copied the smile, thinking the same thing. Leaving in style.

Natasha eased Clint down into the passenger seat, making sure he was good before sliding into the driver's seat herself. Driving a limo was a little different than driving a car, especially when it was their getaway vehicle, but how different could it be? As soon as Natasha turned the key and the engine revved, Daniels' guards streamed out of the front door, guns out and ready. They had been spotted already. Natasha slammed the gas pedal to the floor and the limo squealed away as the guards shot at the escaping vehicle. Clint and Natasha ducked down in their seats, narrowly missing the bullets hitting the headrests. Bullets penetrated the sides and shattered the back windows, but Natasha turned out of the driveway and on to the actual street, away from Daniels' mansion and away from the danger.

As soon as they hit the highway and knew they weren't being followed, Clint leaned back in the passenger chair and closed his eyes tightly. Natasha couldn't help but watch him worriedly as he sat there silently, trying to push all the pain to the back of his mind. Natasha broke too many laws and speed limits getting back to the hotel, but she didn't care. She had managed to cut the half an hour ride down to fifteen minutes, but Clint had still fallen asleep halfway through. When she pulled the limo through the porte-cochere she left the keys in the ignition and the driver's door open to run and get Clint out. A bellhop raced to her side to assist with bags or parking but froze when he saw the state of the two assassins. Natasha threw the bellhop the keys to the limo who stared at them in surprise.

"What do you want me to do with these?" The bellhop asked, but Natasha wasn't listening. She shook Clint gently but he didn't wake up. With every passing second, Natasha grew more and more concerned. Without a moment's hesitation, Natasha slung one of his arms over her shoulders and dragged him out of the car. She would've picked him up in a fireman's carry, but the way he had been holding his ribs made her think that would make things even worse. She balanced his weight on hers and moved as fast as she could into the hotel. The bellhop chased behind her, more confused than ever.

" _Ma'am!_ What do you want to do with the limo?" Natasha whipped to glare at the bellhop.

"Keep it. Get rid of it. I don't care, just get it out of my sight!" She hissed, before walking through the sliding doors into the hotel. The bellhop stared at the keys in his hand until he realized that this wasn't a dream and it was real. He sprinted to the driver's seat and took off in the limo. Wait until his mom heard about _this_.

Natasha slammed the button to call up the elevator, rushing in a leaning Clint in the corner. She hit the button for their floor, but in her opinion, it could never move fast enough. There was a man injured, and the elevator took its sweet time, bright red numbers blinking innocently as they went up another floor. Natasha was close to punching out the screen that displayed the numbers, but it would draw too much attention. Right before she was going to hit something else Clint groaned and his eyes blinked open. He searched the elevator until he found Natasha, face tight in concern.

"...alright?" He mumbled and Natasha could only shake her head and chuckle. No matter how bad he was, he always needed to know she was ok.

"I'm fine, Barton. You, not so much."

Clint chuckled, which turned into a gasp when his ribs protested. "Noticed." The elevator dinged and they were finally on their floor. Natasha noticed the sagging and helped him up again.

"We're almost there, almost there."

At this point, Natasha didn't know who needed to hear those words more, Clint or herself. With Clint half-conscious on her shoulder, the twenty-foot walk nearly took twenty minutes. Natasha was so relieved when they finally reached their door, only for her hopes to be crushed when she remembered their hotel keys were with the rest of their possessions in Daniels' mansion. She swore in Russian before quickly checking to see if the hallway was clear and pulling out two bobby pins. In less than two minutes she had picked the lock and practically kicked in the door.

"We're here. We made it, Barton," Natasha grunted out and Barton instantly lost all adrenaline to pass out completely. He had held on for as long as possible, but being home, being safe, he let go. Natasha wasn't completely worried about his reaction yet, she just needed to assess the damage. She gently laid Clint out on his bed, the white sheets instantly stained bloodred. Red like the blood on her hands, the blood in her ledger. And all of it was Clint's.

Natasha tried to push out every thought as she cleaned up Clint. She grabbed two towels from the bathroom, wetting one with warm water while keeping the other dry. Gently she wiped away all the blood from his face, neck, chest, and arms. Too much blood. Once he was clean, she was able to prioritize the worst injuries and take care of those first. It was hard to look at first because the entirety of Clint's chest was covered in bruises and cuts, from the guards and from her fight. Half of those bruises were caused by her. The more Natasha tried to keep that out of her mind, the harder it pushed back. Working like a machine, emotionless and just getting the job done, Natasha finished fixing up Clint. Taping up his swelling left knee and elevating it just a bit with a pillow, taping sections of his right shoulder to keep the relocated shoulder from swelling, stitches everywhere from slashing from a knife on his arms and chest, to graze from a bullet on his cheek. The only thing she wanted was to be able to give him some painkillers, but she didn't want to wake him up.

As Clint slept on top of his bed, cleaned and fixed up as best as she could, Natasha turned to herself. She didn't feel worthy of getting fixed up, because she was the cause of all of this in the first place. But she knew if Clint woke up the next morning and found out she didn't take care of herself, he would kill her.

Natasha finished and went to bed unable to sleep. She could only think about how it was all her fault and how Clint was ever going to be able to forgive her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi guys! This chapter is a doozy, and it's pretty long too. Just wanted to let you know, this chapter probably has a bit of a rating because there is a lot of fighting and the master assassins do exactly what assassins do... assassinate. A lot. So, just wanted to let you know, but other than that enjoy this chapter!**

 **REVIEWS**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: You're fine, I'm just glad I'm getting so many reviews! They were pretty intense weren't they?**

 **Katie MacAlpine: Hmm.. maybe you're right...**

* * *

Natasha sat up in a panic, bed sheets and clothes drenched in sweat. She checked to make sure Clint was still there, then scanned the rest of the room for intruders. Not satisfied with just a visual sweep she grabbed her gun off the nightstand beside her and made her way through the room, checking behind closet doors and tables. A quiet tapping noise caught her attention and she froze. The sound was coming from behind the closed bathroom door. Natasha kept her gun trained on the door as she silently pressed up against the wall next to the door.

With a quick intake of breath, Natasha whipped around and kicked in the door, running in with her gun drawn. Nobody was breaking into their room on her watch. Looking around the empty bathroom she spotted the culprit: a leak dripping from the ceiling. Natasha rubbed her eyes and dropped her gun, blaming her nervousness on lack of sleep. While Natasha could stay up for nearly three days straight and still be perfectly functional, the last thirty-one hours had been full of brainwashing and fighting, so it took a good chunk of her energy. Feelings less on edge, Natasha gently shut the dented door and walked around the corner to her bed, only to come face-first to another gun.

Natasha's hands slowly raised in the air as Clint held the gun unwavering at her. For a moment Natasha thought this was revenge, that Clint had finally realized all that she had done and decided to get rid of the problem. But she knew it was different as she met his unfocused and tired eyes. Clint blinked when he saw it was Natasha he was pointing the gun at, not some intruder.

"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly. "Heard a door break and didn't see you in your bed, so I thought someone was in the room." Natasha couldn't help but notice he was still watching out for her. After all, she had done. Pushing aside those thoughts, concern bubbled up inside her as she looked at her partner. Clint managed to look _worse_ after a few hours of sleep, heavy bags under his eyes and the pale-ish skin tone emphasizing every single bruise and cut. He fell back so his weight was placed on his good leg and pressed a few fingers into the center of his chest, trying to push back the stabbing pains in his chest.

Natasha wanted nothing more than to send him back to bed, get him to sleep for the next few days to just get his energy back, but something was nagging at her. She cleared the room and checked the bathroom, but she felt like somebody was still there. She couldn't shake the feelings, like an itch no matter how many times you scratched it was still there. On a whim, Natasha did another round of the room, much to Clint's confusion, and everything checked out. Until she got to the window.

Natasha gently pulled back the curtains and her eyes narrowed at the sight below her. Limos and heavily armored cars lined the front of the hotel, men in black tuxedos with automatic weapons watching the entrances. On a raised hand, the armed men stormed the hotel through the front doors, and Natasha could hear the gunfire and screams. One man followed a squad of guards, impeccable suit and a flashy smile. _Daniels._

"We've gotta get out of here." Natasha hissed but Clint was already moving. They grabbed their weapons and anything they could grab quickly and threw it in their duffel bag. Anything that wasn't necessary for survival or the mission was left in the room. Natasha grabbed two guns before slinging the duffel over her shoulder, handing one gun to Clint. Natasha pulled some sweatpants over her dress shorts and Clint zipped a sweatshirt over his bandages. Neither of them took the time to change out of the clothes they had worn to fight before, and now they were out of time.

Double-checking the room to make sure they didn't leave anything important inside the two assassins filed out of the door and out into the hotel hallway. The door to the stairway was right next to their room, but when Natasha cracked it open, she saw Daniels' guards racing up the steps. Clint covered Natasha as she looked down the stairs, and tensed when he saw more tuxedos down their hallways.

"Nat…" Clint nudged Natasha and she looked up just as the guards at the end of the hallways spotted them. Both of their exits blocked, the SHIELD agents back up until their backs were pressed up against the window. All the other doors were locked, and there was no cover anywhere. If the guards opened fire, there would be nothing for them to dodge behind. Natasha raised her gun, counting how many seconds it would take to shoot all the guards, while Clint glanced out the window. Directly to the right of the window was a fire escape ladder. The guards in the hallway were getting closer by the second, and Clint could see the little red laser dots aiming at him and Natasha.

"Jump out and to your left on three," Clint whispered, and they did the mental countdown. On two Clint spun around and shot out the window, and on three the guards started firing as the two agents jumped out the window towards the fire escape. Clint and Natasha hit the hard metal landing hard, broken glass from the window showering above them. They rolled off and climbed down the ladder as fast as they could. Daniels' thugs shoved the barrels of their guns out the window and blindly fired down the side. They had just reached the ground and Clint pulled Natasha around the corner of the building, narrowly missing the hail of bullets. They caught their breath as they stood against the wall. Or at least Clint tried to catch his breath. His chest was on fire and he could only suck in shallow breaths. He tried to breathe in deeply, but it only gave him a loud, hacking coughing fit.

"You alright, Barton?" It was obvious that he was not 'OK', but Clint also wasn't going to say otherwise.

"I'm fine," He waved her off and pushed off the wall. The guards saw them touch the ground, so it was only a matter of minutes before they made their way to the back of the hotel. "We have to move."

Natasha didn't think Clint was in the state to move, especially run from armed maniacs, but he was right. The next question was where could they go? STRIKE team Delta's request for no extraction plan had not been approved yet so they could still contact SHIELD and hitch a ride out of Kenya, but they needed to get away from Daniels' guards. They both were in no state for close quarter combat, and if they hide away there was a chance Daniels could find them before SHIELD arrived. Their best bet was to draw Daniels out in the open and take them all out.

Clint saw the plan form in Natasha's head and he smiled. He was tired, hurt and just wanted to go home, but the few hours of sleep gave him enough energy to want to kick butt.

"You ready for a little more?" Clint and Natasha had a way of speaking, even in the vaguest sense they each knew exactly what they were talking about. With a flick of an eyebrow or a twitch of their lips, the assassins could have full-on conversations without anyone else knowing.

"Oh yeah."

Natasha ripped open the duffel and Clint grabbed his bow while Natasha grabbed a large sniper rifle she had brought with in case of emergencies. Emergencies like this. As soon as he attached his quiver, Clint reached back and grabbed a grappling hook arrow. With one arm he grabbed Natasha and the other one held onto the rope, and the line brought the two assassins to the roof of the hotel. SHIELD had set them up in one of the fanciest hotels in Nairobi, so the roof wasn't plain with a few air conditioners on it. A large pool was dug in the middle surrounded by umbrellas and poolside tables, and a fully functioning bar sat off to the side. Great for parties, not great for cover. There were too many hiding spots, too many places where someone could sneak up on the assassins.

Natasha set up her rifle at the edge of the roof at the front while Clint pushed tables and couches up against the door. Then he took the butt of his gun and knocked the handle off the door. No one else would be joining them tonight. While Natasha finished setting up the rifle Clint had just finished sweeping the rooftop, making sure they were truly alone.

"You ready for this?" Natasha asked a second time, laying down with her rifle. Clint took his bow off his back and prepped an arrow. She knew they had to get rid of Daniels and his goons at all costs, but they were both already injured. And Natasha didn't need Clint hurt any more than he already was.

"Born ready." Natasha rolled her eyes at the obnoxious answer but put her eye to the scope. She heard Clint take the other side of the hotel roof, where guards swarmed the area the assassins were last seen. Clint grimaced and held back an incoming cough as he grabbed a specialty arrow, nocking it and letting it fly towards the group of guards. The ground rocked with the explosion from his arrow, and he managed to get almost all his guards in one shot. The remaining three were crossed off with arrows to the chest.

Natasha waited for Clint to join her at the front of the hotel, where all remaining thugs had met back up. They hadn't been spotted yet, but Daniels knew they were in the hotel anymore. Clint stood with one foot on the ledge, bow pointing down at the mob of tuxedos while Natasha lay on her stomach beside him, rifle scanning the crowd.

"You found him yet?" Clint asked quietly, the arrow still pulled back.

"No. We need to isolate him."

"On it." Clint shot another exploding arrow in the thick of the crowd. Whoever didn't instantly die from the explosion spread out like a wave, every many for himself. A couple of antsy guards sprinted for the exit but Clint caught them right in time.

"Nuh-uh," Clint chuckled, "Not on my watch." With ease, he shot another exploding arrow. The sleek arrow cut through the nighttime air silently, landing right in front of the escaping guards and blowing up chunks of the concrete exit. They never even felt a thing.

"Got you," Natasha whispered with a grim smile on her face. She had finally caught Daniels in her scope, his once smirking and confident face filled with fear. Following him until he tried to take cover behind a tail end of the car, his eyes peeking up above the trunk. Natasha knew that he thought that space was safe, but she was a good shot. A few inches was all she needed. The next time Daniels poked his head up above the trunk and Natasha pulled the trigger. Through the scope, Natasha saw Daniels laying on the ground beside the car, neat little hole right between his eyes.

"Daniels is down," Natasha called to Clint, looking up at him with a scowl on her face. The killing was not something that necessarily made her happy, even when it was sadistic men like Daniels. But sometimes it was a necessity.

"Finally," Clint said with a sigh, dropping his bow for a minute. He felt a cough building up in his chest, but if he coughed right then he didn't know if he could stop. So he held it back. For now. "Let's get the rest of 'em and get outta here."

Like machines, the two assassins did exactly what they were trained to do: assassinate. One by one they took out the remaining numbers of Daniels' guards. At this point it was easy; one of the guards had found their leader beside the car, dead, and called out to all his buddies. They had no one else to listen to. Frantic and watching each other slowly get picked off, none of them even thought to look towards the rooftop where the two assassins made their base. The guards ran around the parking lot like chickens with their heads cut off until there were only two left. The two guards dropped their weapons and threw their hands up in the air. Through the scope, Natasha could see the two of them visibly shaking. All their friends lay around them dead, and they did not want to join them.

"What do we want to do with them?" Natasha asked quietly never taking her eyes off them. She didn't want to go down on the ground and confront them, because if this was a trap there was no way they could fight any longer.

Clint thought for a moment, before pulling out an arrow and a piece of paper he kept in the bottom of his quiver. Jotting down a quick note he stuck it through the arrow so it wouldn't fall off, and shot it between the two remaining guards. As soon as it hit the concrete, the broad-head opened up and released a colorless gas. In a matter of seconds, the two guards were unconscious.

"There. Dealt with. Let's go…-" Before Clint could finish his sentence, the pain in his chest doubled and he couldn't hold back his cough any longer. Natasha immediately looked up concerned from packing up her rifle when Clint's coughs almost literally took him off his feet. Clint dropped to one of the beach chairs behind him and bent over, coughs racking his whole body.

"Barton?" Natasha asked quietly, slowly walking over towards her partner. He continued coughing, large globs of mucus coming out from his mouth and hitting the ground. Natasha's heart dropped when she saw the piles of bloody mucus and Barton looked up at her.

"I.. can't…" Barton sucked in large gulps of air, but not able to get his lungs to work. He couldn't breathe, couldn't get air, couldn't breathe. Natasha grabbed at his arm just as he tipped to the side. Heat radiated off his skin and she placed her hand on his forehead, jerking it off right after at the heat of it. Clint stared at her wide-eyed as his lips turned a slight shade of blue, still not getting air. Completely lost on what to do, she leaned him forward and pounded on his back. Thankfully, that brought out a glob of phlegm that had been lodged in his throat.

Natasha kept kneeling in front of him and Clint rested his head on her shoulder, coughs racking his body. Natasha was thankful she had given SHIELD the signal to pick them up after they got down to the last two guards. She had told them they needed immediate medical attention, she just hoped they got here fast enough.

Minutes later, two SHIELD quin-jets broke into the airspace and hovered over the top of the hotel. Natasha frantically waved the medical team down as the quin-jet sent two baskets down to carried the injured in.

"Ma'am, I'm George Stevens. Are you hurt?" Stevens shouted over the noise of the jet, but Natasha waved him off.

"I'm fine, help Barton!" Worriedly, Stevens passed by Natasha and checked over Clint. Barton was laying back on the umbrella chair, eyes shut and shallow breathing. After asking Natasha questions about the extent of the man's injuries, Stevens tapped his comm to inform the rest of the team.

"I have a male half-conscious, various lacerations, gunshot graze to the right cheek, relocate right shoulder, swelling to the left knee, and cracked possible broken ribs. Raised temperature and shallow breathing so there's something going on with the lungs." Stevens turned around and continued his talk.

"I also have a female victim, also various lacerations and bruises, and possibly going into shock."

Natasha didn't even realize that Stevens was talking to her until he finished his sentence and she shook her head.

"Don't worry about me, make sure Barton's alright."

"I am, ma'am, I am just sending down another man to help get you up into-"

"I said don't worry about me," Natasha commanded, cutting off Stevens with a sharp glare. "If I'm breathing, I'm fine."

Much to her protest, another EMT was sent down and gently grabbed her by the elbow. He introduced himself as Aaron Riley, and he led her to the second basket. She didn't fight him, knowing they were only doing their jobs, but she did not take her eyes off Barton once.

Stevens had called for more of his friends and they had loaded Clint onto the first basket. He was taken up into the quin-jet first, eyes open again searching the faces for Natasha. Natasha went up second, and when she finally made it into the quin-jet, she saw Clint moving to the protests of the EMTs.

"...Romanoff?" He asked frantically, eyes flipping around until pushed off Riley and ran over to him. He was still in the basket, the easiest way for the medics to work on him for the flight.

"Barton. I'm here." Natasha grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently and he instantly relaxed. Natasha could've sighed in relief until Clint became _too_ relaxed. Knowing that Natasha was safe, Natasha was okay, Clint's eyes rolled into his head and his body went limp.

"He's out!" Stevens shouted, pushing through the rest of them. "Ma'am, you need to step back." Natasha nodded, moving out of the way so the swarm of EMT could take care of Clint. Suddenly, she felt a blanket around her shoulders, and she never even realized how cold she was.

"Ma'am, come sit for a minute and let me take a look at you," Riley said gently, pushing her down into one of the quin-jet's seats. Natasha waved off his flashlight before he shone the blasted thing in her face, shaking her head.

"I'm fine. Go help Barton. Please." Riley gave a sad smile and brought the flashlight up again.

"Barton's with my buddies, he's in really good hands. So please, let me make sure you are alright." Reluctantly, Natasha agreed. Riley shone the light in her eyes and confirmed what she already knew by the pounding in her head. She had a concussion. Bruises lined her face and the rest of her body, and besides a slightly bent wrist, which Riley thought was a minor sprained, she was mostly alright. Riley hooked up an IV and gave her another blanket which she accepted. When he was finished Natasha just watched as the other EMTs worked on Clint, keeping him alive.

The two assassins flew out of Africa hurt and tired, ready to go back to SHIELD. The SHIELD agents on the ground were left to clean up the mess. The first thing responding SHIELD agents found were the two unconscious guards finally starting to stir, a sticky note on the arrow between them.

 _A little gift for SHIELD._

 _-STRIKE Team Delta_


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry for the delay guys, writer's block sucks. Quick disclaimer, there is a lot of medical talk in here, and I know nothing. Everything is googled to try and make it as realistic as possible, but I'm not a doctor. Anyway...**

 **REVIEWS**

 **Katie MacAlpine: Thanks! That was fun to throw in there.**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: Thanks! I guess you'll read to find out!**

 **Before I let you go, I wanted to let you know that this story is nowhere finished yet. We still have much of the master assassins coming up, and I have to warn you it's not always going to be that happily ever after! OK, enjoy! Let me know what you think! ;)**

* * *

"How is he?"

"He's… holding on. Four broken ribs, two more cracked, but I'll get back to that in a minute. We stitched the graze across his cheek, and we are watching the concussion. He did a relatively good job relocating his shoulder, but we had our orthopedic surgeon examine again, and everything's all good. His knee, however, is a different story. He had a complete tear of his patellar tendon, which is the tendon that connects the front of the thigh and straightens the leg. Basically, it means the tendon was separated from the knee cap, making it nearly impossible to have basic knee functions. We had to perform surgery to reattach the tendon to the kneecap, and it went smoothly. Sutures were placed in the tendon, then attached and tied to the kneecap. There have been no other complications about that so far, but we're keeping an eye out."

"Is that all?"

"Unfortunately, no. When you were out there was he coughing a lot? Or having any trouble breathing?"

"Yes."

"That's what I was afraid of. When ribs are cracked or broken, it can cause the patient to not be able to breathe properly because of the pain. Not taking full breaths allows mucus and moisture to build up in the lungs, causing pneumonia. Normally, some medication and rest will allow pneumonia to work through its self, but with his conditions, it caused a few complications. When he arrived in the hospital, he experienced complete respiratory failure. He started breathing on his own again a little while later, but we are using a ventilator as a precaution."

"Can… can I see him?"

"Of course."

Natasha knew the sight wasn't going to be pretty when she walked into the SHIELD infirmary, but the medication she was on didn't help hold back any emotions. Limping slightly, seeing Clint laying in the bed so _still_ was unsettling. It wasn't like him. She sat in the chair next to his bed and grabbed his limp hand, careful of the IV and the bandages on her hand. Part of her wished for him to jump up, rip out the wires and call this all an elaborate prank. She would hit him, but it would be worth it just to see those eyes again.

She had been checked out by her doctor and rushed the process as fast as she could. Stitches and bandages on her wounds, meds for her concussion and she left the room as fast as she could. Coulson had come in and joined her as soon as they were in SHIELD Helicarrier. The helicopters were poised to take them to a SHIELD funded hospital in Kenya, but the Helicarrier had been flying nearby, possibly because of a certain handler when he heard about certain agent's conditions, so they had been taken directly home.

Natasha kept her grip on Barton's hand, bringing it up to her face, resting her cheek against it. Each artificial breath from the ventilator felt like it was taking the air directly out of Natasha's lungs, and suddenly the noise filled her ears. She couldn't drown out the mechanical _whoosh_ , the only thing keeping her partner alive.

Tears welling up in her eyes, she rocked back into her chair, hands pressed up against her ears. She couldn't get the sound out of her head. It was too quiet. The voices were too loud.

 _It's your fault._

 _He's in the hospital, fighting for his life because of you._

 _Why wait for him to wake up? You know he wouldn't be able to stand the sight of you._

 _How will he ever forgive you?_

 _It's all your fault._

Natasha curled into herself, trying to force all the voices out of her head. She whispered to herself, words that once had been told to her whenever she got hit by Red Room programming during training. Words that had been said by the man who now lay in front of her because she had succumbed to the voices.

 _He can't breathe because of you._

 _He can't move because of you_

Natasha jumped out of her chair, pushing it back until it hit the wall behind her. She paced in front of the bed, talking to herself and trying to not look at her partner. The partner she had put there. The one who was relying on a machine to keep him alive.

 _You killed him._

Natasha whirled around, tears streaming down her cheeks, and put her fist through the wall. She didn't even notice she did it at first until the stitches that had been put in her hand and arm were ripped open and the pain doubled. She knew it was just the voices in her head talking, programming that the Red Room officers instilled into her at a young age. They were just words. Why were they having such an effect on her?

The sound of a door opening kicked Natasha into overdrive, pulling her fist out of the wall and sprinting to the entrance of the infirmary. She grabbed the figure who walked in the room by the throat and pinned him up against the wall, fist cocked back for a fatal punch.

"Romanoff!"

The harsh command sent her backward without any physical force needed, and Natasha met the eyes of her handler. Coulson had come in to check on Barton, and instead got choked out. Once she realized what she had done, she backed up, staring at her now bleeding hands, tears unable to stop.

"Natasha," Coulson started again, voice softer as he stepped forward. All his movements were slow and visible. The last thing he needed was a former Red Room assassin thinking he was a threat.

"No, Coulson, don't." Natasha put one shaking hand up and Coulson froze, hand by his sides. "You don't know what I-I did. What I did to…-" Natasha couldn't even finish her sentence before her voice broke off.

"Then tell me," Coulson said calmly, wild green eyes racing up to meet his. "Tell me what happened, and we'll work through this. Together." For a brief moment, Natasha looked like she was about to take the deal, but she shook her head again and stepped back. Coulson followed her glance at Clint, laying unaware in his bed.

"I can't. I hurt him, and I can't do that again." Natasha's voice grew stronger with every word, tears drying up. Maybe the voices were right. It was her fault. But she would not let any more blood spill in her ledger. If the people close to her were dying, she would have to leave.

"I can't let him get hurt or killed because of me, Coulson. It's not fair. It's my fault he's here, it would be better for him if I wasn't around at all."

"Natasha, trust me that is not true at all. Clint would think-"

"It doesn't matter what Clint thinks! He's here because _I put him there._ " Coulson winced at the volume of her voice, and Natasha took a breath before continuing to speak.

"He's not safe around me. You aren't either. None of you are." Coulson opened his mouth to speak, but Natasha cut him off. "I am going to find, Lev and I am going to kill him. Once that is done, I'm finished. I can't put all of you in danger like that."

Natasha took a look at her partner for the last time, wanting nothing more than to stay by his side, but she knew it couldn't work. She was too much of a liability. She loved that man, but the only way to keep him safe was to leave. She raised her head and squared her shoulders, resembling confidence and stalked towards the door.

"This is my choice, Coulson. Don't try to stop me."

Natasha walked out the door without another word, leaving Coulson speechless next to Barton's side. He slumped into the chair Natasha had sat in, trying to process everything. He didn't have any idea on what happened in the mission, there was strictly no contact, but whatever it was turned sour real fast. He noticed when his agents didn't hit the extraction signal when they said they were. As soon as that happened, Coulson convinced Fury to change course on the Helicarrier, heading towards Kenya. He knew Barton was seriously hurt, but half of him wasn't surprised. Barton always played hero and ended up getting beat for it. There had been a fair share of close calls in the past, but this time Coulson had been calmed knowing that Natasha was with him. Clint couldn't die if Natasha was around. She wouldn't let him.

Coulson knew Natasha was feeling some sort of guilt when he saw her in Clint's room, but he had never expected the outburst from her. All he was going to do was tell her the good news.

The ventilator was coming off and Clint would wake up on his own not long after.


	21. Chapter 21

**Whew. Really trying to work on this thing. These are kind of shorter than my other ones, but they'll get longer soon. I think. We'll see. Enjoy!**

* * *

Coulson was torn. On one hand, he wanted to run after Romanoff, talk some sense into her, keep her from leaving. If she was on the path he thought she was, there would be nothing but blood. He had seen pictures of the destruction after SHIELD documented Daniels' mansion. Every single person was dead. Except for the two prisoners of course. But it was exactly what the assassins were trained to do.

But on the other hand, Barton's doctor was in the room with them, taking off the ventilator and prepping him to wake up. The anesthesia had been weaned off for almost half an hour now, so it was any minute that Barton would wake up. Coulson knew Barton would be expecting a familiar face to be there with him. In the past, it was Coulson, the only man he trusted. Romanoff was added to the shortlist of people Clint trusted, and often woke up in the hospital to her face. Coulson didn't know how he was going to tell Clint that his partner went off on a homicidal rage for reasons only she knows.

In the end, Coulson stayed with Clint, knowing he could chase down Romanoff later. Barton would want some answers, and he intended on finding out as much as he could.

"Ok, he should be waking up soon. If something seems off, call me." The doctor left the room and Coulson nodded his thanks. Coulson tried pacing around the room, tried sitting in a chair with his legs bouncing off the chairs, nothing could calm his nerves. About ten minutes later he considered changing his mind and running after Romanoff, but the large intake of breath flipped his attention back to Clint.

A groan came up from his agent as Clint's head rocked side to side. His left hand clawed at the sheets, trying to get a hold of something as he forced his eyes open. Coulson dropped to the chair at Barton's side and grabbed his hand, careful of the IV.

"I got you, Barton," Coulson encourage, squeezing the agent's hand. Coulson smiled when Barton squeezed back, giving him a good enough answer. A few minutes later Clint's eyes blinked open, searching the room until they fell on Coulson.

"...Coulson…"

Coulson let the smile grow even bigger. "Hey, Barton. How ya feeling?"

Clint looked down at the rest of his body. His right arm rested in a sling on his chest, and his left knee wrapped up tightly in a brace and propped up with a pillow. He couldn't really feel anything else, his entire body was just numb.

"Feels like happy juice…" Clint mumbled, leaning back into the pillow and closing his eyes for a minute. Coulson laughed out loud, something that he hadn't done since this whole thing started. Clint always was a little loopier than others when on medication, and if they hadn't been a top-secret base the videos they had of him would've made millions with the public.

"Yeah, you're on the happy juice. Enjoy it while it lasts."

Clint looked around, brows furrowing, knowing something was missing. "What happen'd?"

"That's what you have to tell me. We have no idea." Clint shut his eyes and let one hand run over his face, collecting his thoughts and words as memories slowly flowed back in.

"We got to the mansion and found Daniels, but something went wrong before we could get to the auction. Nat was kidnapped and they did something to her. She said her name was Natalia and she only spoke Russian. It was this Red Room guy, Lev I think? Then Daniels got both of us and we were forced into a cage fight."

"Is that where…?" Coulson didn't have to finish his sentence as he motioned to Clint.

"Yeah. There was a bit beforehand trying to get Natasha back, but most of it was from…" Clint trailed off and his eyes grew wide. He sat up suddenly and Coulson jumped up, holding his shoulders to keep him from climbing out of the bed. "Coulson, where's Nat? I need to talk to her!"

Coulson actually struggled to keep the man in his bed, before pain ripped through Clint and he let Coulson push him back down.

"Barton, she's not here right now, she…" Coulson really didn't want to tell him right away. The best-case scenario was that he walked out and grabbed Romanoff before she left for whatever mission she was planning for and put them in a room together to work out whatever they needed to talk about. Worst case, Romanoff left and Barton would kill him for letting her leave.

"No Coulson you don't understand, I need to talk to her!"

"You both keep saying that. I don't understand. _Then help me understand!_ " Coulson said, his voice rising in frustration. Everyone kept saying he didn't understand, which was true. But he couldn't understand anything unless they told him what happened!

Clint sighed, taking a breath and starting again, voice stretched tight with urgency. "She's part of the reason I'm here. When she was brainwashed by the Russian guy, she was under their complete control. So when we were put together in the cage fight, she didn't know me. We fought, and I mean _really_ fight. If I hadn't snapped her out of it, she probably would've killed me." Coulson stood open-mouthed at the side of the bed. Clint hadn't just fought Natasha. He had faced off against the Black Widow, the one before SHIELD came around and intervened. By all means, Barton should be dead.

"But I gotta talk to her, I'm the only one who can talk some sense into her. She thinks it's her fault. 'Cause it's not. She didn't know what she was doing. It was the brainwashing, but now I'm afraid she's gonna run off and not come back." When Clint finished he watched Coulson's face lose color and Clint instantly was suspicious.

"Coulson? What happened?" Coulson didn't answer and somehow Clint knew the answer. "She was already here wasn't she? Coulson, where's Nat?" Clint could hear the panic in his own voice, his gut telling him something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Coulson please, you gotta tell me, what…-" Before Clint could get another word out, he was overcome with a coughing fit that racked his whole body. Coulson waved out the door for the doctor who rushed in the room.

"Barton you stay here, I'm going to get Romanoff." Clint opened his mouth to protest, but Coulson held up his finger. "I find out you left your bed for any reason, I will personally make sure you are stationed in Antarctica for the next six months. Stay in bed. That's an order."

Without another word, Coulson left the infirmary calmly, trying not to get in the way of the working doctors and nurses. His thoughts ran a mile a minute, and he was trying to wrap around everything he had been told. The most important thing was stopping Romanoff before she went off on a suicide mission. Coulson took long steps, moving as fast as he could while leaving some sense of confidence as he hit the main hallway of the Helicarrier. He passed by a window that showed the top of the Helicarrier, and he saw a quinjet taking off on the runway. Coulson swore under his breath and sprinted the rest of the way, pushing past agents and security until he reached Fury's office. He practically threw open the door, surprising Fury.

Coulson had no hesitation. "Where's Romanoff?"

Fury didn't lookup. "What do you mean?"

"Nick, this is not the time for games," Coulson growled and this time Fury stood up. The two men stood face to face, mere inches away from each other.

"You don't think I know that? Coulson, Romanoff just came in here threatening to leave SHIELD in ruins if she didn't get a quinjet for a personal mission. So you tell me, what on earth happened with the Daniels op?"

"She got brainwashed by the Red Room and nearly killed Barton. She's off to go kill the man who switched her over."

"Well, what's the harm in that? One less target for us and Romanoff gets her revenge. When she gets back she'll be fine."

"That's the point! She's not coming back! She told me all of this when we were in Barton's room. She thinks it's her fault, and it's just a danger for all of us for her to be around. _She's not coming back_. And you let come at you with an empty threat and waltz out of here."

"How do you know it's an empty threat?"

"Have you not seen her and Barton together? You think she would do anything on purpose to hurt him, let alone destroy the only thing he's ever known?" The argument had built up to a full-grown yelling match and neither man was backing down.

"Coulson, did you not just hear yourself say that Romanoff had almost _killed_ Barton on the mission? If she tried there why would she not try here?"

"Fury, did you not hear me say brainwash? I told you, it wasn't her." The two men faced off in silence for a minute more, before Coulson shook his head and stepped away. There was only one thing they could do to bring her back, and Fury was not going to be any help with that.

"Congratulations. You just lost one of your best agents, _Director_."


	22. Chapter 22

**Alrighty, here's the longer chapter I promised. Now we get to see Natasha really kick some butt!**

 **REVIEWS**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: I don't know I guess you'll have to read and find out!**

 **Enjoy guys! I'll get another chapter in later today!**

* * *

 _Two weeks later…_

It was easy to blend in. She was glad to know that her time with SHIELD, as beneficial as it had been hadn't taken away any of her Red Room skills. After entering Turkey with the impeccable fake passport she had, the first thing she did was change her hair. The red bob was immediately dyed brown and extensions were added made her hair slide down her back. But as she walked the streets of Amasya, the long sleeve dress covered her arms and a lightweight white scarf scarcely covered her head For once the busy streets were quiet, so she enjoyed the sound of the birds in the air and the wind blowing through her dress. Quiet was good. Quiet meant she could work in peace, without having to deal with pesky customers or street goers.

Being in Turkey, she had taken the spot of a little known seller, spreading lies on how he had been taken by the local militia accused of treason and thrown in jail. "Jail" was a hole six feet under the ground of the abandoned house she was staying in. He had no connections, no family, no one would miss him. For the first time before a kill, Natasha actually thought about how people would be affected by his death. The first part of her Red Room training to slip away. She shouldn't have to think about the kill, only how to get it done. She was not a human being. She was a ruthless killer.

The story was bought easily, so she spent the week taking his spot on the fruit stand, talking with the people in the market and finding out what she could. People had grown attached to her, the small town was extremely friendly and anxious to talk to anyone about anything. However, Natasha had little interest in talking about how the price for the latest cloth had dropped three liras. Every time she took on a new customer, two certain men stood out from the rest. Big and burly, they wore the clothes from the same shops she bought at, and ate at the same stores she ate at. As soon as she heard chatter that Lev was hiding out in Turkey, she had traveled there straight from England and followed two of his guards around the city.

Natasha had followed them everywhere they went. She kept spare items of clothing in the thick purse she carried with her always, spare Glock in the bottom in case things got too ugly too quick. To make sure they never spotted her, she changed her appearance or a part of her outfit multiple times a day. But not once had she seen them go anywhere that Lev could be hiding. One night she thought she caught a break when she watched them sneak out of the hotel they were staying in, but they only turned around the corner to catch a smoke.

After watching them for three days straight, Natasha was getting frustrated. At some point, they had to give her something.

" _Good morning. Two pears and three bananas, please,"_ the first of the men she followed said. She learned his name to be Pasha. He was definitely Russian. The accent she could recognize anywhere slipped through even when he was speaking Turkish. The other man behind him was not Russian. She could not tell who he was, and his name was never spoken. Pasha had only ever called him _Kimse_. 'Nobody' in Turkish. Natasha knew Pasha was just hired muscle, but she couldn't figure out what role Kimse played.

" _Of course. Twenty liras please."_ Natasha dug out the fruit and handed it over while he gave the money.

" _Thanks, Nadia. See you next Monday."_

" _See you then."_ It was clockwork. Everyone in this town ran like a machine. She had the same fifteen customers on Monday, then a different group on Tuesday. It was amazing. At first, she had thought it strange, and asked her contact in the town if this had started as soon as she showed up. But her contact had confirmed that this was a regular thing. It was just how the town worked. Any slightest bit of change made the whole town uncomfortable. She had then asked him how they took it when she showed up because no one acted strangely.

" _You are fine,"_ he had said, " _they are also very gullible."_

Natasha watched them walk away, quickly looking back at her fruit when Kimse glanced at her. She was undetectable, except that Kimse knew something was off with her. But she wasn't worried about him. All she wanted was Lev.

A little after the two men left she closed up shop, apologizing to some latecomers, promising to open early tomorrow. Natasha changed the straps so her purse became a backpack, pulled out a black scarf and switched it for the white one. After rolling her sleeves to her elbows and ripping off her long skirt for a knee-length skirt underneath, throwing on a pair of glasses completed her outfit change. She continued to follow them around the town, but when they took a left on a street they normally took a right on, her interest piqued.

Natasha was a master at following targets, she was trained by the very best. Even these were guards for the 'very best' they would never spot her. She crossed the street and picked up a newspaper unfolding it while she walked. Lev's men ducked down a side street. Natasha kept watch of them as she crossed back over, but walked past the opening. If they had been watching, she had just walked past them.

As soon as Natasha reached the corner of the building, she dropped her newspaper to a small child and ran around the back. A fire escape ladder that the owners never bothered to close hung off the side and she climbed up it easily. Reaching the back edge of the roof she spotted the two men as they entered a library. No one she had interacted with even mentioned a library in the town. It hadn't been abandoned, because they would've told legends about it, but it also wasn't in use because she didn't hear a single person talking about it.

She grabbed the gutter and slid down the side of the building, hitting the ground lightly and resuming her stride as nothing had happened. She continued the path the two men had followed until she hit the first person walking briskly past the entrance of the library. The town was very friendly, and almost everyone she bumped into would start a conversation about anything, so she lightly touched the shoulder of the passerby.

" _Hey Ali, how are you? I haven't talked to you in a while."_ Natasha had talked to him two days before.

The person jumped underneath her touch, switching his glance nervously between her and the building in front of them. " _F-fine,"_ he said voice barely above a whisper.

" _How is the library? I've been meaning to go in and check out a book, but I haven't got around to it. What do you recommend?_ " The man looked at her with wide eyes. He glanced around for a second time, making sure no one else was around, before grabbing Natasha's shoulder and shaking her gently.

" _Nadia, you do not want to go to the library. There is a reason we do not talk about it! If you want a recommendation, do not go anywhere near the library."_

Natasha pretended to look shocked as she dug for more. " _What's going on in there?"_

" _No one knows. But the few people who have gone in there never came back out. Some of the people thought it was haunted, but there are people who go in and out occasionally. Something evil is going on in there."_

Natasha knew exactly what he is talking about. " _Thanks, Ali, I'll watch out. Fruits half-price tomorrow, I'll see you then."_

Ali looked skeptical but nodded. " _Bye Nadia. But please, don't go inside. We don't want to lose another innocent person to whatever's inside there"_

Natasha nodded, knowing full and well what she was going to do inside the library was anything but innocent. She walked down the street, knowing that Ali checked back at her when she walked the other way. Natasha turned the corner and peeked back, checking to make sure Ali was gone. She knew she couldn't just waltz through the front door, if Lev had guards they would see that before she even had time to plan.

Natasha casually walked around the side building, climbing on the roof much as she did earlier. Up on top, she stayed low to the gravel on top of the roof when she spied cameras sitting on top of the library. Definitely not part of the little friendly trusting town. She watched the camera carefully, determining the pattern. If she had a window, it would be a very small one. The camera on the front right corner and the back right corner were synced, both moving right and left at the same time. Effective if you were dealing with amateurs. Lev always let someone else in charge of security. He hundreds of girls from the Red Room program at his side. Why would someone like him need to worry about security?

Since the run-in with Lev at Daniels' mansion, she had no trouble remembering every other run-in she had with Lev. They plagued her nightmares and nagged at her when she was awake. She had tried to push back all the memories with Lev once she went to Budapest and ran into Barton.

Natasha knew that time was of the essence, but she couldn't help but stop to think about her partner for a minute. She had to wait for a break in the pattern for a minute anyway, so she rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky. It was the middle of the day, and the sun was beating down onto her but it was a cool sixty-one. Perfect weather. Reaching down into the bottom of her purse, even further than the Glock she kept hidden in it, she pulled out the two folded pieces of paper. Making sure her hands didn't get in the sight of the cameras across the roof, she held them up in front of her, staring at the pictures.

It was her and Barton, standing side by side way back when she first joined SHIELD. Not long after, Clint had thrown her a party upon the top of Helicarrier with cake and alcohol. She had been surprised at first. She had never had a party before. Granted it wasn't a traditional birthday party or anything, but it had been special and it had been for her. The first picture was of her, right after she blew out the candles. A smile had been on her face when she noticed Clint holding the camera, an actual smile. She never even knew that he took the picture. It was her favorite picture of herself, the only one where she looked truly happy.

The second picture was even better. Clint had taken the phone and flipped it around, jumping up behind her. He had wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she remembered having to fight off the instinct of fighting, knowing then he wouldn't attack her. He had put the camera in front of their faces and snapped what was called a 'selfie'. Her face was of total surprise while he was wide-eyed and smiling big. It had been right before he had gotten drunk out of his mind, so it was all real. Gently she ran her fingers across the front of the picture, staring at his face. He was so happy.

Natasha had been happy too. She enjoyed working at SHIELD. It was better than the Red Room had ever given her. She had freedom, a choice to do what she wanted. But with one mission, she ruined her chances for that ever again. Part of her desperately wanted to believe that Clint would forgive her, know that it wasn't her. But the rest of her thought rational, knowing that nothing like that would happen. Clint brought her in to SHIELD on a matter of trust. He trusted her not to kill him that first night, and she acted on it. She tried to kill him minutes after saying he wanted to give her a better life. A chance to start over and she almost lost in barely minutes later. Now she had tried to kill him and nearly succeeded. This time her chances had really been screwed, and she knew there was nothing that could take her back. Even if Clint didn't hate her for all of this, there was no way she would let herself go back. If she couldn't control herself this one time her past came back to haunt her, how could she if it happened a second time? Her past was too much of a danger to them, _she_ was too much of a danger to them.

Natasha tucked photos away, pushing back down the unwanted emotions that crawled back up her. She had spent longer than she wanted on this. She couldn't afford to let emotions get in the way of the job.

Turning back, she watched the cameras, counting the seconds of the pattern under her breath. If she leaped down when the two cameras were perfectly straight and parallel to each other, they wouldn't see her. She just had to wait on the count of five.

One… two… three… four… five

Natasha rolled to her knees and jumped off the roof of the building next to the library. The one-story building was short so the fall was long but nothing she had never dealt with before. She hit the ground and rolled so the brunt of the impact spread throughout her body instead of just her knees. Keeping low to the ground when she saw the windows to the library, she snuck around to the back of the library. The back door was locked, but that never stopped her. Quickly she picked out a pair of thin gloves that would stop her prints from getting on the building but wouldn't interfere with her job. She pulled the lock kit she always kept on her and quickly picked the lock to the back door. The small town didn't have much security, but nobody would ever look there.

Once inside, the first thing Natasha noticed was the distinct smell of chemicals. It was nearly overwhelming and frighteningly familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Immediately after, a Red Room guard made his round right next to Natasha. She jumped behind a bookcase, so silent that the guard never even knew she was there. When he was in reach, Natasha snuck out from behind the bookcase and grabbed his neck, snapping it in one swift movement. She caught him before he hit the floor, making no other noise. Efficiently she stripped him of his supplies, radio, knife, machine gun, then dragged him out the back door.

As Natasha crept along the back of the library, using the bookshelves to hide her from view, she got a glimpse of the operation going on. The chemical smell grew stronger with every step she took closer to the middle of the floor, where the books had been torn out of the shelves and used for other materials. Guns and weapons on one side, chemicals and various other material on the opposite side. In the middle of the chaos was just the man she was looking for. Lev.

His men worked quickly as he watched over them. Natasha identified the materials and recognized them as dirty bombs. She could only imagine the destruction those would cause with Lev in control over them. Natasha let the machine gun slide over her back. That was the last resort. She was going the stealth route. Lev had trained her to be able to take out a whole room of people without others even knowing. She had to be careful when she did this because Lev was the one who taught her how. But she had grown. Lev was good, but she was better.

The second kill was just as easy as the first. Unsuspecting, just like the other guard the man had walked in front of her. She grabbed him and dragged him backward, covering his mouth so he couldn't make a noise, before gracefully breaking his neck. There wasn't anywhere good to hide his body so she just shoved it between two bookshelves. It would do until she was finished. Keeping mind of her surroundings, Natasha made her own rounds of the outskirts of the first floor, leaving a trail of bodies behind her. This was what she was trained to do. None of them could stop her.

The grounds were clear so she finally got a good look at the center of the library. A few feet ahead of her was a staircase that led down to the floor below. She could go down the staircase, but that would reveal her position too quickly. Her best option was to take as many of the guards out at once, leaving the rest to fight off. Easy. Natasha climbed up a bookshelf, using the shelves as steps until she peeked over the top. She was balanced between two of them, feet on opposite sides of the bookshelves and her body turned so she had a good view of the center. The gun wasn't silenced, so once she used it there were no more surprises, but she wanted this to end this quickly. Aiming the machine gun and picking out the pattern she would use to take them out she took a deep breath and started shooting.

There were fourteen guards total, and she got ten before the rest of them reacted and whipped out their own guns. They fired back at her while Natasha dropped down, laying flat on the carpet while the bullets whizzed over her head. When she heard the click of an empty barrel, she moved again. She sprinted to the top of the stairs, gun drawn back up aiming. Once she finished all the guards laid on the floor, neat little bullet holes in their foreheads. Fourteen guards, fourteen bullets. Only one man was left in the center of the destruction, and he never even bothered to draw. Natasha kept the gun raised and aimed at him as she walked down the stairs, aim never wavering.

Lev looked briefly surprised as she stood in front of him, only feet away. So close to the man who almost made her kill her best friend. As the silence continued and Natasha didn't make a move, an ugly gin broke out on his face.

" _Natalia. I am glad you are here, now I can show you what I am working on. And maybe you can-"_

Lev's sentence was cut off by a gunshot. His mouth dropped open and he looked at Natasha with glazed eyes before dropping to the floor. A single gunshot between the eyes. Natasha held no hesitation. To make sure he was dead she walked over to the body of her former officer and held the trigger down, spraying his body with bullets.

Natasha dropped the gun and removed her gloves, sticking them in her back pocket. She would get rid of those later. Turning in a full circle, she knew someone would need to take care of all the bodies and chemicals in there. The Turkish government would be ecstatic to find out a terrorist group planning on bombing their towns was gone.

Walking out of the front of the library, she walked down the steps with a smile on her face. It was over. He wouldn't bother her anymore, and she was free. The smile soon dropped off her face, knowing that she wouldn't be able to go back to SHIELD. Lev was gone, but there were still more Red Room operatives out there. She could never go back, not until every single person in the Black Widow program was killed.

" _Nadia!"_ Ali shouted, running towards her. " _What did I tell you? Don't go to the library! How did you come out? What was going on in there?"_

" _Ali, calm down. I solved your problem, the library is in use again. But it's a mess and its dangerous there, so now I'm warning you, call the police. Let them clean it up. You don't want to see what's inside."_

Ali looked at her in amazement, a smile breaking across his face. He thanked her repeatedly, before running off to go call the police and tell the rest of the town. Natasha knew as soon as the police showed up, she would have to be gone. She kept her pace normal as she walked down the streets. She checked her back again, pulling up the two photos. Hers was fine, but somewhere during the fight, the one with the two of them ripped. She stared at it for a second, tears started to well up in her eyes. It was over for now, but she just wanted some way to let him know what Lev was gone.

Crossing the street to a small convenience store, she picked through pieces of paper before she found the one she liked. Buying it and writing a quick note she walked back into the town. She was greeted with thanks and praises for fixing the library, and she could already see the local police force starting to section off the area. She wandered around until she found the man she was looking for.

" _Hey, Ali!"_ He turned to look at her, a smile on her face. " _Can you do one more thing for me?"_

" _Of course! We are in debt to you, Nadia."_ Bowing slightly, Natasha waved it off.

" _No need. Just give this to a man when he comes into the town. His name is Clint Barton. American, tall, blonde. He'll want this._ "

Ali nodded and took the postcard in his hands, watching as Natasha turned her back and walked out of the town. Ali looked at the pretty picture of their town's houses, smiling. He flipped it over and read the small note in the little English he knew.

 _Barton-_

 _It's over. He's dead._


	23. Chapter 23

**Short, I know. But I needed a little filler chapter. Expect another one tomorrow, if not Monday! See you guys then!**

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

"For the last time, yes. Who else could kill fifteen people with one shot each and not leave a single trace of their presence?"

"Barton, I understand that, but why would she come here? She could've stayed in a bigger town, less chance of people knowing or recognizing her."

"She needed to stay close to her target. Just let me look around more, someone will say something."

Clint rolled his eyes and tapped his comm/hearing aid to finish the conversation and continued to limp down the road. Clint had sat in a hospital bed, completely useless for a week. Coulson had threatened him multiple different ways so he stayed in bed the entire week, and for once he listened. The doctors had also threatened if he got out of bed early he would be forced to use crutches to move around. That alone had scared Clint enough. He hated crutches with every fiber of his being. Since he was a good little patient and his pneumonia dwindled to a little cough and the sling was taken off his arm, he was just stuck with a full knee brace. It was hinged and adjustable, but it was completely straight for the time being. He could only put about half his weight on it, but it was better than walking around with crutches. The brace and a light-colored scar on his cheek were the only things that remained from the night at Daniels.

Clint continued down the road watching the people and smiling when they waved to him. He was dressed lightly, light pants that his brace easily fit over and a blue t-shirt. Not a typical outfit but if anything he was going for the 'tourist' look. Coulson had tried to give him a camera and a big floppy hat to complete the look, but Clint threatened him back with some unsavory things.

"Next time Phil, you're out here and I get to sit inside with the AC with my knee propped up."

Coulson couldn't hold back the snark. Even in intense times, a little humor was good. "Let me remind you that this is your partner we are looking for. Not mine."

"The only reason we are out here looking for her in some random town in the middle of Turkey is that you let her walk all over you."

"I did not-"

"Yes, you did. You totally did." The argument continued over the comms for a little longer, before they fell silent again. As much as they joked around, they were both extremely involved in their jobs and concerned for Natasha. Natasha had grown on Coulson, as much as he would deny it, he liked her. She had more guts and bravado that most SHIELD agents he trained. And the way the two assassins worked together was outstanding. It was like nothing he had ever seen.

Clint and Coulson had jumped off the Helicarrier the first time it touched the ground, set to find Natasha by themselves. Coulson had tried to convince Fury to help thing, but Natasha had threatened SHIELD, and whether she meant it or not, Fury couldn't condone a mission to bring her back. The favor he had done was to keep a STRIKE team from sending out to take care of the threat. Coulson had gotten that much done, but finding her was up to them.

Coulson had pulled some strings and called in a few favors to get the few resources they needed, and that's where they heard about the massacre in the library. The Turkish government was freaking out, and they knew that no one else could pull that off. They had set up shop in a hotel room and Clint had gone out on the street to look for more close.

Clint had found an abandoned building that he guess Natasha stayed in, but there was no sign of her around. He expected nothing else. He wasn't allowed access into the crime scene, no matter how much he bargained or bribed the military men guarding it. The last option was civilians. She had lived there for at least a few days, so she had to interact with the public at some point. It would've been part of her cover.

He reached a market that resembled the one he saw in Budapest when he was first sent to kill Romanoff. It was cute, the shopkeepers shouting out their items for the crowd to hear. He recognized some of the words, but his Turkish was a little rusty. He kept a careful watch on the crowd, waiting for anything remotely weird. Coulson had made him leave his bow back in the hotel room, but a small handgun was shoved down in his pocket out of sight. With a sigh he checked his watch, wondering how much longer he was going to stay in the town. It was getting close to dinner time, and his stomach reminded him that with a growl. Something smelled good on a cart to his right, so he stopped by.

" _Hi, can I have one of those please?"_ he pointed to the sign, which showed a picture of a small sandwich with what looked like meatballs on it. Clint started to dig around for some money but froze when he realized the shopkeeper hadn't moved an inch and continued to stare at him.

" _Hello?"_ The man continued to stare at Clint as if he was trying to remember him. Clint felt his hand inch slowly towards the pocket with the gun in case something went sideways, but a second later the man spoke.

" _Are you Clint? Clint Barton?"_

Clint looked shocked. " _What?"_

" _American, tall, blonde. Named Clint Barton. That's what she said."_ Clint slowly realized what he was saying.

" _She? Are you talking about Natasha?"_

He shook his head fiercely. " _No, Nadia."_ Clint nodded. Of course, she used a different name.

" _Yes, Nadia. What else did she say?"_

The man pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket, handing it over and Clint took it with shaking hands. " _Give this to Clint Barton_."

Clint looked at the picture of the little town, the town he was standing in. Nothing on the front gave him any clues, but he flipped it over and quickly read the note on the back of the card.

 _Barton-_

 _It's over. He's dead._

He read it once, twice, three times to make sure she didn't leave any other clues. He knew it was hers because Natasha had hard handwriting to replicate, so unless someone was a really good forager, it was her writing. He thanked the shopkeeper who couldn't keep the smile off his face and walked back to the hotel double time. Coulson got first rooms on the first floor so Clint didn't have to worry about climbing up floors, but as he stepped into the room his knee started to throb.

"She was here," Clint said excitedly, dropping the postcard on Coulson's desk and laying down in his bed to rest his knee.

Coulson spun around in the chair to stare at the photo then at Clint. "Ok, so where is she now?"

"That's the part I can't figure out," Clint huffed, running his hands over his face. He was tired, his leg hurt, he never even got his sandwich, and he just wanted his partner back. He could ignore everything else if he just got Natasha back.

"She's got nothing left. Where do you go if every bit of yourself has been taken away, everything you've ever know replaced and anyone you ever interacted with gone?" Clint had no idea what he was saying, but somehow it made sense. Almost instantly, the two SHIELD agents sat up and stared at each other saying the answer at the same time.

"Home."


	24. Chapter 24

**Hey guys! This one is short but my brain did not want to work today, so here we go! Also, if you're paying attention to this series, you'll recognize the first paragraph from somewhere...**

 **REVIEWS**

 **xXxUnReQuitEdxXx: Me too!**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: It is! I'm writing as fast as I can ;)**

 **Katie MacAlpine: Thanks for the reviews! And for your questions, I guess you'll have to find out!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The hooded figure crossed the rainy streets of Moscow, moving swiftly through a crowd of people dressed almost identically to him. With their hoods pulled up, an umbrella over their heads, you couldn't recognize anyone. He blended in perfectly as if he was a normal citizen. Except he was anything but normal. Russia was lovely, and he hoped he had time to visit and explore the area. Churchs crowned every corner and stores filled the streets. Vendors yelled at him from their windows in Russian, asking him to sample borscht or examine this window glass. But he had a mission to complete.

Coulson and Barton had flown into Russia on the next flight from Turkey, anxiously waiting. When you are stripped to the bare bones and you have nothing left, you go to a place that is familiar. You go home. To confirm Clint's suspicions, Coulson called in yet another favor to some SHIELD agents in Russia and had them confirm that Romanoff was in the country. They set up almost the same way as they did in Turkey, Clint out on the streets and Coulson watching the scanners.

Just Clint's luck a storm had rolled in right when he started looking for his partner, so he was soaked to the core. Even with the raincoat and the ball cap pulled low to keep the rain out of his eyes he was dripping wet. Internally he hoped he found her soon because he was getting awfully sick of walking around in the rain. Pulling down his hat lower, he misjudged how close he was to the edge of the sidewalk and rammed shoulders with another passerby. He slipped into the street and tried to catch his balance, but his left leg slammed into the ground and a pain jolt traveled up his leg. His arms flailed as the last resort, staring at the headlights that were rapidly approaching him.

In the next blink of an eye, someone grabbed his hand and pulled him back on the sidewalk, narrowingly missing the car that honked by. Clint let out a sigh of relief and rubbed his throbbing knee through the full leg brace. The rain had let up a little until it was a light drizzle, and he was finally able to take off his hat.

"Thanks…" When Clint looked up at the person who saved him from an untimely accident, he recognized them immediately.

"Natasha?"

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise. With the long coat and hat pulled down low from the rain, she didn't even recognize Clint. But when she saw a man get knocked off the sidewalk and into the path of an oncoming car, she acted to help. Her world flipped upside down when the person she just saved was no other than the very person she was running away from. The two held eye contact for a moment of undisturbed silence before Natasha turned on a dime and sprinted the other direction.

"Natasha!" Clint couldn't even act as he could run. He was stuck to a fast limp, the brace and painful knee slowing him down immensely. Natasha only looked back for a minute, unwanted emotions building up. "Romanoff!"

"Romanoff, do not run away from me after I flew all this way. I'm trying to help you!"

Natasha whirled around, emotion written all over her face. "I'm trying to help _you_. You keep getting hurt because of me. I can't let that happen!" Natasha ran around the corner while Clint's final plea fell behind her.

"It wasn't your fault!"

Clint sighed as she disappeared out of sight, and he dropped down to a bench to rest his knee. There was no way he could run after her, not right now. Dropping his head to his hands, he wiped his face. He tried to hold back the exhaustion, but he was running out of energy. He couldn't keep doing this. All he needed to do was sit down, _talk_ with her. If he could just talk with her, he could convince her. Clint had a way with words, he could get almost anything he wanted with a smile and a few words. Natasha was an assassin, but even she could fall for it.

" _Barton? Did you find her?"_ Coulson's voice crackled over the comm, and Clint tapped his comm/hearing aid to keep the conversation going.

"Yeah, but she spotted me and ran off. I'm trying to think of where else she could be but…" A newspaper at the side of the bench caught his eye, while Coulson kept talking, giving more options.

" _We've already checked hotels for known alias and people who looked like her, but she could always be using the one we don't know. Have you checked any libraries? That's where she was in Turkey, maybe she's using someplace we wouldn't look. Maybe a restaurant. Or…-"_

"Phil shut up for a second and look up a place for me. Called Bolshoi Theater." Clint stared at the newspaper in his hands, immediately drawn to it by the picture on the front cover. Four girls in strikingly white leotards, red hair up in stylish buns, up in the air in perfect saute. They all looked like Natasha. Clint remembered Natasha talking about the Red Room, how they performed in the theater. It was always ballet.

" _Okay, there is one Bolshoi Theater, up at Theater Square. It's about six blocks from you right now. There is a show going on tonight, at six. Showing Sleeping Beauty. Why? Didn't know you liked ballet so much."_

"Last time to shut up, Phil. Nat talked about ballet and this theater. It's my last shot. Just get me a ticket alright? I bet she already has one, so just get me in there."

"Alright, you got it, Ballet Boy," Coulson couldn't help but chuckle over the line, and Clint had to hold back his own laugh. Man, he was glad Coulson was with him. He needed something to laugh about while he was stressing out. Clint trusted Coulson with his life, one of the few people who that honor. Natasha and Coulson were the only people he trusted. Fury and Hill were up there too, but they had their faults.

"You know how much I hate you, right?"

"I know." There was a pause and Clint could hear the clicking of keys over the comms. "Got it, a ticket for one. It's a little out of your price range, so get a suit."

* * *

 **Quick disclaimer, I don't hate ballet I actually enjoy it a little, I just wanted to have some fun. I promise I'm not a hater! :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Sweet, here we are! I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter, I don't know why I just really liked it. I hope you all like reading it as much as I liked writing it!**

 **REVIEWS! -Quick thing, either the website or my computer is freaking out because the notifications said I got new reviews, but I'm not seeing all o them. I'll answer the ones I see, then when they all show up I'll answer them. ;)**

 **Katie MacAlpine: She could be, we'll have to see!**

 **enjoy!**

* * *

"I'm just going to be outside, so if you need anything or Romanoff needs extra convincing, just call, alright?" Coulson stood with Clint outside the theater, minutes before the ballet would start. They had miraculously found a suit in time before the show, just simple black dress pants with a white t-shirt and a black blazer on top of it. Plain and definitely not appropriate for a ballet, like the one he was going to but he wasn't concerned. He wasn't going to stay long, so he didn't really care what he wore.

"Thanks, _mom_ ," Clint rolled his eyes and the sarcasm was evident. He knew Coulson was just looking out for him, and he appreciated it, but he could take care of himself. He held his own just fine before Natasha came around, and he could still do the same with her around. He was a fully capable assassin, who just tended to get more injured or not. But this time it counted. This was technically a mission with no extraction plan. STRIKE Team Delta had asked for no extraction plan in the beginning, but they were told to wait for a few missions. But now there was no choice. If something went wrong, it was just the two of them. Hopefully three.

"You are actually a mess Barton, I don't know how you survive on your own," Coulson sighed, pulling at the suit jacket until the lopsided mess actually looked presentable. Coulson went to smack Barton on the back of the head, but Clint dodged it, walking towards the door.

"Careful of your knee, Barton, I don't want to fix that for the third time."

"Coulson, I get it. I'll be careful, just wait outside. I'll get Romanoff and get back out." The leg brace couldn't be hidden through the tight pants, so the brace was out for all to see. Coulson watched as Clint entered the theater doors without a problem, giving the appropriate people his ticket and disappearing inside.

Coulson made himself comfortable in the delivery van across the street, sipping at his coffee. Half the time Coulson made a fuss over Barton to poke fun at the man, but most of the time the concern was very real. Ever since Coulson had picked up the scrawny starved barely young adult off the street, he had been watching over Barton ever since. There was almost nothing he wouldn't do for the man, and Barton returned the sentiment. He had to admit, sometimes even Coulson caught himself being a little overprotective, but there had been too many close calls. Too many times in the beginning that Barton would come back from a mission hanging on by a thread. Not because he sought out the danger himself, but because he was reckless, self-sacrificing idiot. He always thought better he take the punches that the other person because he knew he could handle it. Going through a tour in the Army drilled that into Barton. Much against Coulson's protest, Barton signed up for the Army a few years after joining SHIELD. Coulson knew he would be great, but he'd rather Barton be an agent. Needless to say, Coulson was ecstatic when Barton's tour finished and he came back to SHIELD, a little worse for wear and a few more nightmares, but he was home. So call Coulson overprotective, but there was a time that he didn't know if Barton was going to live another day, so he got some rights to be.

" _I'm in position, Clint."_

"Copy that, I'm inside now. I think you got the worst seats possible. I'm literally at the very top."

"Visibility, Barton. You can see everything, which hopefully means Romanoff too."

"Right. Gotta go, sir, gonna look weird talking to myself."

"You are weird, Clint." Clint couldn't hold back the smile that crossed his face, getting some weird looks from the people around him. He waved and smiled even wider, and limped past to the elevator. He got some sympathetic looks as he waited for the elevator, the brace out in the open. He hated it. He hated the pity and the looks. The minute he could get the blasted thing off it would be thrown in the trash.

As Clint rode the elevator something was off. It was a slow and jerky ride to the fifth floor, but it was missing something. A sudden explosive beeping noise filled his ears and a monotone voice filled his brain.

"BATTERY LOW."

Clint sighed, and noise slowly filtered back in again. Music. That's what was missing. He had missed the typical elevator music that was playing. Just what he needed right then. He waited a moment for the other hearing aid to do the same, but he had some luck that night. His aids must've been unevenly charged, so he had a little more juice in the other. Stepping out of the elevator, he tapped his remaining comm.

"Coulson, heads up, meet in the lobby in ten, okay? One of my hearing aids just died on me."

" _You got it,"_ Coulson replied over comms. Clint slipped the dead aid into his pocket and continued the walk to his seat. Coulson was right, his seat was good for watching over the crowd. And especially with his eyesight, he could pick out individual people on the ground floor. Suddenly, the lights flickered and a woman's voice spoke kindly over the PA system, informing the guests that the show would start in five minutes. Five minutes to scan the entire crowd and find Romanoff.

Clint was methodical, starting with the floor he was on and working his way down. By the time he reached the ground floor the lights started to dim, and he almost panicked. He hadn't found her yet, but if the lights went out there was no chance of finding-

Natasha. Right before the lights went completely out he spotted her, ground floor, the box on the right side of the theater. Clint smiled to himself in the darkness and made his way back to the elevator. On the side down he was hit with another beeping noise and the same monotone voice.

"BATTERY LOW."

Clint pulled out his second hearing aid as well, holding them both loosely in his hand as he walked out of the elevator and met Coulson in the lobby. It was quick and efficient, spending as little time as possible. The less chance of them getting spotted by Natasha and her getting spooked the better. So when Clint pretended to trip and brush up against Coulson, his handler slipped the batteries in Clint's pockets and continued on his way. Clint made his way around the bottom floor until he was at the doors. Batteries were replaced and hearing aids back in, he was ready to go.

Pushing the doors open he tried to make as little noise as possible, to not disturb the people watching the show and to not alert Natasha. He spotted her box, the one closest to the stage, the only thing separating the box from the hallway is a thick red curtain. He was so close. Silent as he pulled back the curtain, he watched as her head bobbed lightly to the music playing, fingers tapping against her leg. Her hair was short again, but it was still dyed brown. It would take a while for that to wear out.

Without giving away his position, Clint snuck into the private box until he was almost directly behind her. As much as people thought he wasn't, Clint was very good at getting around without making a noise. He was an assassin after all. He wasn't like Natasha, who could walk on gravel without even a noise, but he was good. Better than most.

Clint slid into the empty chair beside Natasha, finally catching her attention as she tensed and whipped around to look at him. She met his eyes for a second before she jumped out of her chair and bolted for the exit.

"Nat, wait!" Against everything her head was telling her, Natasha listened and froze before she could escape. "Please, let me explain." Without breaking eye contact, Natasha walked slowly walked back around to her seat and faced him. Her face was emotionless, as she had trained to be, but Clint all smiles.

"By the way, I like the red better," He said with a chuckle, while Natasha just frowned.

"Clint. Please."

"Fine, fine." Clint leaned back into his chair, and Natasha finally got a look at him. As much as she didn't want to, she needed to make sure that he was alright. That she didn't cause any lasting damage. A light scar on his cheek stood out against a thin stubble, and she knew he probably hadn't rested in days, at least. She knew he was concerned for her, but she was fine. Really. Her eyes traveled down the rest of them until they locked on the brace on his leg. It kept his leg out straight and unmoving in front of him as he sat. She kept her face neutral and stayed silent, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the damage _she_ had done.

Clint noticed her stare, and as much as she tried to keep control, he heard a sharp intake of breath and flashes of guilt in her eyes. He motioned to it lazily, rolling his eyes.

"This thing? It's nothing. Doc says I only have to wear it for two more weeks, then I'm good as new. You look great, by the way."

She didn't. Dark circles ran under red-rimmed eyes, and her hair was pulled back so she didn't have to brush it and make it look presentable. Her hands were held tightly in her lap, but he could see them shaking anyway. However, the simple phrase brought a ghost of a smile on her face.

"Why are you here?" She whispered, not trusting her voice to stay together if she went any higher. Clint smiled even wider, leaning forward.

"The real question is, why are _you here_?"

Natasha sighed and closed her mouth, thinking over an answer. The doubts were back, nagging at her, saying that he could never understand.

"You don't understand."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, Natasha. I do. Do you think you're the only one who's had control over you? I grew up in a circus for half of my life. Yes, I wasn't brainwashed and given programming, but I was threatened into my work. And when I tried to stop the person who I trusted from destroying my home, everything I ever knew, he broke both of my legs. I prayed that he just wasn't thinking right, that he had drunk too much or, or something. But then he took the money and left. Left me behind. He had a choice, and with that choice, he hurt me and my brother." Natasha was silent as she listened, head hung low. She didn't know how this was supposed to make her feel better if anything it almost made her worst.

"But there's a difference between him and you. He had a choice. You didn't. You didn't ask to be trained to be a weapon, or brainwashed into thinking. At Daniels', you had no choice. Lev was a surprise to both of us, I guarantee you did not walk up to him and ask him to brainwash you. Unless you did, then this whole thing is a massive waste of time. You didn't ask, right?"

This time Natasha couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Right."

"Good. I'm relieved. Now, taking all of that into consideration, I'm going to tell you this one time so listen. _It's. Not. Your. Fault_. Nobody blames you. _I_ don't blame you. It wasn't your choice." Natasha took a deep breath, and for the first time that she heard that she almost actually believed it. "But now you have a choice. Just like Budapest all over again. Stay here. Keep running away, like you've shown you can do."

"Or come with me. Come back _home_. Choose wisely." Clint stood back up and gently squeezes her shoulder before he walks out of the box. Natasha sat there, shellshocked. She didn't deserve Clint Barton. Not once, but _twice_ he gave her a second chance, a chance to fix the mistakes she had. She remembered the hesitation in Budapest, questioning whether or not she could trust the man who decided not to kill her. This time, she had no hesitation. She was tired of running.

Quickly, she wiped her eyes and had a real smile on her face for the first time in weeks. She followed the path he had walked until she saw him leaning up against the wall, casual smile on his face.

"Ready to go home?" He asked, pushing up and walking next to her.

"You bet."

The two assassins walked through the lobby, away from the ballet with music playing in the background. Before they reached the doors, Natasha's fingers brushed up against Clint's hand, and he took them gently.

Hand in hand, the master assassins walked out the door, leaving the theater behind them.

* * *

 **BTW the whole army thing is something I threw in there for Clint. Whenever I actually write the story based solely on him, I'll explain more of that.**

 **Bye!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hello! Wow, I was looking back at the story before this, and there were like four main problems and each one lasted like six chapters. This story so far as had like one major problem and it's lasted about twenty chapters. Wow. But by no means is this finished yet! We're going to take a break from a little action just for a bit so I can just have some fun with the characters. But there will be more later, I promise!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: Nope! We're not done yet!**

 **Katie MacAlpine: I think she did ;)**

 **Alrighty, guys, I'll be back with more soon! Enjoy**

* * *

 _One month later_

The sound of fingers pounding away on the keyboard filled her ears, just over the quiet whispers of her partner on the other side. Her eyes were glued to the screen, unable to look anywhere else. She growled when she missed a key and her eyebrows furrowed deeper. They were running out of time.

" _Tasha, I need your help over here!_ " Clint's voice broke over the headset and Natasha growled.

"I know, I know, I'm coming. Just hold on," Natasha nearly shouted. She wasn't ready to lose him yet, she couldn't. Suddenly, she heard him swear loudly over the line.

" _Nat, I'm surrounded! I can't get out!"_ His voice was frantic and Natasha typed even faster. Before she could make another move, red flashed on her screen, the words taunting her as she stared in them.

 _GAME OVER_

Natasha groaned and she heard Clint on the other side of the headset do the same. They had started playing the co-op shooter game late last night, and that turned into a session that lasted all the way to the morning. As soon as Coulson had returned with the master assassins from Moscow, Fury had sat them all down and lectured them, which none of them really paid attention too. Fury knew this as well, he was mostly just glad that he got all his agents back in one piece. He would never admit it, though. But STRIKE Team Delta had been given mandatory "time-off" to "think" about their actions. Basically, it was a break to rest up while thinking it was punishment. They had been at it for a month already, and while Natasha missed the missions and fighting, it was a good break. All she and Clint had been talking about during that time was going on a vacation. A real vacation, not "time-off" on the SHIELD base in the middle of Albuquerque. But every time they asked, Fury turned them down. Clint argued that they deserved the vacation, it had been nearly two years since Budapest, and they had been blown up, kidnapped, brainwashed, and almost everything else in between. But every time, the answer was no.

"What did we do wrong?" Natasha thought out loud, clicking around on her PC game to check out the map. She sat on her bed in her pajamas, pillows spread out around her with the computer on her lap. Her door was shut, and Clint wasn't in the living room and kitchen they shared, or in his own room. She knew he had his computer because he was playing with her, but she had no idea where he was. He had vaguely pointed out that today was an important day, but she had no idea what that could mean.

" _I don't know. Next time I'll flank the northwest corner, maybe I can get the guy behind the window."_

"Alright, I'll-" Before Natasha could finish she was cut off with a knock at her door. "Coming!" She shouted, pushing off her bed and walked to the front door.

" _Who's there?"_

Natasha opened up the door and as soon as she caught sight of the man in front of her, she could barely keep it together. She slid half of the headset off so she could hear.

"Fury, sir, what are you doing?" Natasha could barely keep a straight face, let alone her sentence together as she stared at the Director at her door. In her ear, she heard Clint swear and move around wherever he was.

" _Nat, I gotta go. Fury's gonna kill me,"_ He paused and Natasha could almost hear the smile over the line. " _Take a picture for me."_

Director Fury stood in front of Natasha, covered head to toe in pink glitter. Natasha tried her best to not burst into laughter, but it was harder with every second he stood there, a scowl on his face.

"Trying out a new-style? Sir?"

Fury was not amused.

"Agent Romanoff, it would be in your best interest to tell me where Agent Barton is right now. Otherwise…" Fury let the threat hang, but it was no use to Natasha.

"I believe you, Fury, but I swear, I haven't seen him since the mess hall last night. We've been playing online, but he never said where he was."

Fury raised an eyebrow and stared at her for a moment more, before sighing. "Ok. If you see him…"

"I'll tell you him you're expecting him. Got it." While she was talking, her hand was in the pocket of her pants, slowly pulling out her phone. Fury left the door open as she walked away and Natasha stuck her phone out of the doorway.

"Director!" She called suddenly and he whipped around. Right as he faced her, Natasha snapped the picture and pulled back in her room, slamming the door shut.

"Romanoff!" Fury growled, running back to the door and pounding on it. "That goes out anywhere and I promise you are _dead!_ " Fury threatened, but Natasha couldn't hold it in anymore. Staring at the picture of _the_ Nick Fury covered in glitter was hysterical, and Natasha fell to the floor, unable to breathe from laughing so hard.

When Fury left and Natasha regained her composure, she tapped her headset, hoping Clint was still there. "Barton? You here?"

" _Yeah, I'm here. How'd he look?"_

"You should've seen his face. But… why? What happened?"

" _You don't know?"_

"Don't know what?"

" _Oh my god, you don't know. You've missed out on so much."_

"Barton, what is it?" She could hear him laughing over the headset.

" _It's April 1st, Natasha."_

"So? What does that mean?"

" _Oh, I have much to teach you, young padawan. It's April Fools Day!"_

"What is that?"

" _Just meet me in the nest in ten. I'll explain everything there. We are going to cause_ chaos."

Minutes after Natasha sat down in the giant bean bag chair in the biggest opening in the vents, the place Clint called his "nest", her partner showed up right behind her. On his face was the biggest smile she had ever seen, it made him look like a little kid who just saw Christmas presents under the tree. It was one of pure joy and mischievousness. While Natasha quickly dressed in a light t-shirt and sweatpants, Clint was in his full SHIELD outfit, equipped with everything except for his gun and bow. In hushed voices in case, someone was listening, Clint explained what April Fools Day was and how Fury being covered in glitter was part of it.

Natasha was fascinated at the glee on Clint's face as he described the prank for Fury. He had set it up as soon as Fury left his office for the night, rigging the first drawer of his desk to shoot out sticky glitter as soon as he opened it up. The only thing he missed was setting up the camera next to it, because Fury had made a late-night stop. With rapid hand movements, Clint describe his narrow escape, so vividly Natasha was on the verge of tears from laughing so hard.

"Alright, so what happens next?" Natasha asked when they finally calmed down. Clint wiped his eyes before staring at her with a crazy look in his eyes.

"What's next is that we give the rest of SHIELD a wakeup call. It's April Fool's Day. No one is safe."


	27. Chapter 27

**Hey there guys, so this is a fun one! This was a ton of fun to write so I hope you have as much fun reading as I did! Enjoy! DISCLAIMER: I do not own any brands used in this story.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: I'm glad too, and that might just happen... ;)**

* * *

"Crap, he's here. Nat, get back here!" Whipping around Clint pushed Natasha into the broom closet directly behind them before climbing in himself. They had moved on the second part of their April Fool's plan when they caught a glimpse of the pink glittery coat of Fury stalking towards their position in the hallway. Clint couldn't get caught yet, there was still so much left to do. And now with Natasha in on it, there was double the trouble. The heavy footsteps of the director told them he got closer to the closet. Fury was too suspicious, there was no way he would just forget about it and move on. But with him right outside the door, there was nowhere for the assassins to go. Their last option was to hide. They were assassins, they blended in with their surroundings for a living. There was no way Fury would be able to spot them, even though he was _the_ spy. He was good, but they were better. As soon as the door opened and Fury popped his head inside, the assassins held their breath, not making a single noise.

Unable to see anything clearly, Fury hit the lightswitch. When the light didn't turn on he scowled and flicked it multiple times, scowl growing deeper by the second. When the light switch continued to defy him, he gave up and just opened the door wider to let the light from the hallway in. He was sure he saw Barton and Romanoff duck in here, but when he looked inside he only saw brooms and buckets. Fury slammed the door shut, mumbling to himself as he walked away. A few agents stared at him confused as he stalked back to his office, but he shut up their laughs with a single glare. He _would_ find Barton. And when he did, the man would _pay_.

"I think he's gone," Natasha whispered as she came out of her hiding spot and pressed her ear to the door. She had folded herself up and fit inside of an industrial-sized mop bucket, the perks of being unnaturally flexible. There was no way Fury could see her, she was invisible. Just like she was trained to be. But instead of using her skills for assassinations of world leaders, she was using them to hide from the director they were pulling pranks on. Sometimes she amazed herself.

A soft scraping sound filled the closet and she glanced up just as the light flickered back on. Clint had somehow managed to climb up to the top of the thin shelves and press flat against the top. Squeezed in between the top shelf and the ceiling he was more in the line of fire, but not unless they looked directly up. At his height, he had managed to unscrew the lightbulb on the ceiling so there was no light. He was not going to let Fury find them so early in the game. Their skills of blending in would not be put to waste. In short, anyone who challenged the master assassins to a game of hide and seek would lose. Every. Single. Time.

Cracking the door open a smidge to check that the hallway was clear, they filed out of the closet and sprinted down the hallway until they reached the mess hall. The first part in phase two of pranks. Clint distracted the few chefs in the kitchen, telling stories about how some new agent tried to cook his own meals in his room and how it stunk up the hallway. As he asked for advice on how to make it better than the other agent, Natasha snuck behind the shelves of oversized pots and pans to the back entrance to the kitchen. Hearing Clint's voice in the background keeping the chefs busy, she pushed open the backdoor to the young agent outside the kitchen. She palmed him a twenty and he handed over six boxes of donuts. He left without another word and Natasha walked back the way she came, out of sight, but kicked a single hanging pan on her way out. Clint heard the signal and made his escape, joining back up with her as she walked back into the mess hall. Saturday mornings like this were quiet, and on the few days that SHIELD agents actually had off, most took advantage of it. On the tables Clint had set up the night before, they laid out the boxes of donuts, keeping the lid shut. They walked away casually, sharing a quick fist bump when they were sure they were out of sight. SHIELD agents didn't get many days off, but it was just their luck that one of those days was April Fools.

Natasha couldn't believe how much fun she was having. She had a specific skill set, and those skills were only ever used on missions. For the first time ever she wasn't just doing good with her skills, she was having _fun_. Never in her life would she think that the ability to sneak up behind people without a sound would make pranking so easy.

In front of her, Clint kept up the casual walk until they were outside of the mess hall, right across from the public bathrooms. Clint had explained the plan beforehand, but each 'mission' only had a few minutes for each. Natasha grabbed two caution signs from outside the janitor closet nearby while Clint broke into the fire extinguisher box to grab the supplies he had stashed. The men's bathroom was first, so the two assassins ran in with armfuls of crumpled toilet paper rolls, boxes of plastic wrap, clear nail polish, and boxes of something called bang snaps. The propped up caution sign would keep everyone out until at least they were finished, but after that, it was fair game. Less than two minutes later they were finished and the double set of supplies was brought to the women's bathroom. Altogether, they were done in less than five minutes. Throwing all leftover evidence in the bottom of a trash can-below the bag-they picked up the caution signs and sprinted to the next room.

While the assassins were causing general mischief, they had a specific target. He moved like clockwork and never broke schedule, so it was only a matter of time before he started his routine. That's when the fun will _really_ begin.

"We've got about twenty minutes before he makes his coffee, then we gotta go," Clint called out as they raced inside the printing room. He locked the door behind them and pulled down the shades on the windows before getting to work. He glanced at his watch as he dropped felt along the floor. He knocked gently on each tile until he found the one loose panel and picked it up. Out of the hole, he pulled out a few sheets of paper and scissors, handing it out to start cutting. A few pieces of tape later and they were out of there. Only one place was left.

Natasha picked the lock on the office door while Clint stood watch, casually leaning against the wall and whistling. Thirty seconds later the lock popped open and they were in. With ten minutes left, Clint jumped up on the desk and unscrewed the vent cover, pulling out tons of supplies. Pre-blown balloons with packing tape, bags of googly eyes, small cutouts of paper, and glue. A few minutes of "redecorating" and they were finished. With three minutes to spare, they locked the door behind them and continued their walk back to their room. Their faces neutral, they nodded politely to unsuspecting agents as they passed. The last phase was to go back to the safe place and watch the madness unfold before them. That would be the grand finale, getting to see the faces of everyone one of their targets. The two assassins had almost reached the rooms Scott free when Natasha heard the familiar strut of the director. Swearing at the same time, the assassins looked up and down the hallway, looking for an escape. Metal caught Clint's eye and a sly smile lit up his face

"Up there!" Clint hissed and waved her over. With a little boost, Natasha climbed up on top of Clint's shoulders and immediately started working. Under his directions, she pulled the screws off the cover of the air vent and jump up into the vent tunnels. Sticking her hand down, Clint jumped up and grabbed hold of it, using the wall for help and he slid up inside the vent out of sight. Right then Fury turned the corner, standing frozen at the entryway. Something was off. A rattle came from above and he saw the vent cover settle in its place. He squinted at it for a moment, listening for any other noises, before continuing his walk. Clint and Natasha watched Fury walk away through the cover, holding their laughter in. Carefully, they turned around and army crawled their way back to Clint's nest to watch the fun unfold.

There was something about the "Nest". Whatever it was made it special. Maybe the fact that it was their secret place. Not even that, it was Clint's special place that he had chosen to share with her. That made it worth even more to her. It was Clint's favorite place-besides the roof, of course-so that made it Natasha's favorite place. It looked a little different since the last time she was there, but it made it more for two.

Clint jumped and hit the center of the giant bean bag in the middle, sinking into the mass of pillows and blankets like a little kid. The entire time they were running around the base she couldn't help but be amazed at the difference in the man she was seeing. Clint was always happy, joking, the life of the party. She had also seen him at some of his lowest times when they both thought life as they knew it was over. But _this_ , it was like he was a kid again. She knew part of his past and how rough it was. She more than just knew it, she felt it. Growing up hadn't been easy for either of them. This was the childhood he never got. This was the childhood _she_ never got. She needed today. And Clint Barton was helping her in more ways than she would care to admit.

"How on earth did you get a mini-fridge up here? I mean, pillows and bean bags sure, even the tv is just the size of the computer but… this? How?" She asked him over her shoulder as she grabbed two sodas from the minifridge in front of her.

"I honestly don't even remember. It was a night after a rough mission, and I was on some serious medication. I remember completely rearranging my room, then making my way up here, then passing out. When I woke up, I had a minifridge. It was weird." He nodded his thanks after she handed him the drink and she took a sip of her own.

" _You're_ pretty weird," Natasha chuckled, crawling up the bean bag and leaning against Clint. He held his arm to the side so she could move in comfortably before he let his arm hang around her shoulders. Natasha let her eyes shut for a moment as she lay her head against his chest, holding onto the feeling. They hadn't been up together since Maria Hill first joined, almost a year ago. She had been this close to Barton since then, and she missed it. The more she thought about the more she wanted something different. More than just partner. But she had no idea how to even start that. Or if she wanted to start that.

"I know, but you love it," Clint laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. Clint missed this almost as much as she did. And the thought that he might've not been able to get Natasha back, that he almost lost her in Russia sometimes terrified him. If she hadn't come back, they would've been able to sit up in the nest, about to watch the unfolding of the pranks they had set up all morning. There was nothing like it.

"I do," Natasha whispered, almost to low for Clint to hear. But he did, and he couldn't stop the red that flushed his cheeks or the smile that crossed his face. He had everything he ever wanted in his arms. And he was happy.

He held his phone up with his free hand, with the live streams from hidden video cameras placed strategically around the prank zones. The only place they didn't have eyes on was inside the bathroom because that was just disgusting. But there was facing outside the door, so they would catch the victim afterward.

"When'd you get the cameras up? And without people knowing?" She felt Clint's laugh reverberate through his chest, a feeling that made her stomach flip.

"Tasha I've been planning this since the beginning of the year. I knew that…-wait that's him!" On the first camera, the victim walked into the mess hall. It was go time.

Coulson had to admit he was somewhat surprised when he saw the boxes of donuts sitting out on the table. He glanced around the mess hall, but he was the only one there besides the chefs. No one was claiming responsibility, and there was no note on the table saying it was for specific people. There weren't normally snacks out for the agents on normal days, mostly on holidays. He approached the donut boxes cautiously, knowing that today would have been a holiday. He had already seen Fury and was under strict orders to report Barton as soon as he was found. But if the man didn't want to be found, he wouldn't.

Coulson knew he wasn't safe from pranks, but it was almost too tempting. It could've been psychology. The prank would've known that Coulson would be suspicious of the donuts, so the prank was at the end of the day everyone looked over them and there were actually donuts inside. He just had to check. Coulson dropped his files on the table and cautiously opened the first box, not even surprised when he saw the bright colors of vegetables under the lid. He continued down the line, all of them with fruits or vegetables, one of them even had water bottles inside. But as soon as he reached the last box, fully expecting to be disappointing, he got the cool yellow of perfectly glazed donuts. _That_ must've been the psychology.

Triumphantly, he picked out one of the donuts and his files and continued on his route, taking a big bite as he stepped out of the mess hall. Inside the sweet dough of a donut, his mouth was filled with the tangy and sour taste of mayonnaise. He gagged and sprinted to the bathroom ahead of him, nearly knocking aside a young agent walking down the hallway.

Clint and Natasha were near tears from laughing so hard, they were sure they could be heard from the vent exits.

"Nice call on the last box being donuts, I didn't even think about that," Clint said, putting his phone down for a second to wipe his face. Coulson would spend the next couple of minutes washing out his mouth. Then he would make use of being in the bathroom already and stopping for a pit stop. In between the toilet and the toilet seats were the little bang snaps, set to go off as soon as the slightest bit of pressure was applied. Then when he would go to wash his hands, all the bars of soap would be impossible to use, because of the coat of nail polish around the top, rendering them useless. Everything was inevitable, except for one thing. The entire plan hinged on Coulson sitting down for a number two.

"Wait, wait, wait, listen…" Clint whispered, picking the phone back up and holding the speaker close to their ears. No cameras inside the bathroom, but the one facing the bathroom door had good audio capabilities, so they could hear what was going on inside. It was quiet for a minute until four loud bangs echoed through the door followed by a very unmanly scream.

"He found the bang snaps!" Clint shouted, falling back into another fit of laughter. It was just too funny. Part of him felt bad because it was Coulson and he was the best, but the other half of him had the exact same argument. He should prank him because it was Coulson, and it would be the funniest thing.

Through wheezing breathes they watched as a red-faced Coulson exited the bathroom, smoothing his suit as continued his walk to the next stop on his route. A single agent stood frozen outside of the bathroom door, watching Coulson in surprise as the handler walked away. He had heard the entire thing, and now he wasn't sure if he wanted to go into the bathroom.

Next was the printing room, and Clint followed Coulson as he walked down the hallway. This prank wasn't so visible, it was only funny in the end. If the victim didn't notice, that was even better.

Coulson pushed open the door to the printing room carefully, sticking his head inside to make sure nothing looked out of place. He continued his check of the room, not wanting a repeat of the bathroom. It had not been pleasant. Satisfied that the room was clear, Coulson slid out copies of the files he was supposed to copy and stuck them under the copier. He whistled a song that was stuck in his head as he waited for the printer to finish his copies.

"Is it working? I don't think anything's happening," Natasha whispered, but Clint shook his head.

"No, he just hasn't noticed yet. He's about to…"

The printer dinged, telling Coulson that his papers were done and Coulson collected them from the try. He almost didn't give them a second glance until a dark spot caught his eye. His mouth turned up in a surprising frown when he flipped through his papers, seeing the same mark on all his copies. Almost in disbelief he flipped up the tray on the copier machine, and carefully pulled off the cut out of Clint's face taped to the top of the copier. Now every single one of Coulson's copies had Clint's face on it, directly in the middle.

"Barton…" Coulson growled under his breath, searching around the room for signs of the archer. Seeing nothing he grumbled as he walked out of the printing room. The only thought that filled his head was if Clint touched any of his memorabilia in his office, the kid was a dead man.

Clint switched cameras until he found the one directly next Coulson's office door, ready to catch Coulson's face as soon as he turned the corner. This was the final stage, and if it went off without a hitch there would be some pretty priceless pictures.

"Here he comes! Get a picture of it," Natasha hissed, and Clint waved her off.

"I got it, I got it…" Watching the phone with one thumb poised over the snapshot button, they waited anxiously for their handler to turn the corner. Over thin audio, they heard footsteps, and the face change of Coulson was exactly what they hoped for. The neutral face completely dropped when he turned the corner to look into the windows of his office and only see balloons. Clint got a few pictures in, saving them to his camera roll.

Coulson's jaw dropped when he saw the balloons in his windows. He had seen this prank before. The prankers would fill the entire room full of balloons or other objects. He really hoped this wasn't what happened. Coulson was almost nervous as he flipped out his keys and unlocked the door. He was slightly relieved when there were no balloons spilling out of the open doorway. He let the door swing open on its own just to make sure nothing fell down from the ceiling.

Coulson let the breath he was holding when he saw there were just a few balloons taped to his window, not covering his office. He dropped his ruined filed on the desk and sat down in his chair. He was met with the pictures on his desk staring back at him unnaturally. Googly eyes had replaced the actual eyes of the people in the photograph. When he tried to pick up one of the frames, it wouldn't come up from the table. He tried the other objects on his desk, the pens, cupholders, the discarded coffee mug from the day before. They were all glued to the table. He hit the on the button on top his computer and moved around the mouse-the only thing not glue to the desk. But as he moved around the mouse, the little arrow was stuck frozen on the screen. He hit the mouse a couple of times, trying to jam it back into working. When he flipped it over to check the batteries, he noticed the cutout picture of Romanoff covering the sensor of the mouse.

Coulson pulled it off and threw it to the side, pushing his chair backward. With one hand he pulled a sticky note off and reached inside his drawer for a pen that wasn't glued to the table. But as soon as he pulled open the drawer to his desk, he was shot in the face with handfuls of glitter, this time bright green.

Coulson sputtered and spit globs of glitter out of his mouth, wiping his eyes to get clear of the glitter. He knew Clint was watching, so he glanced around for the camera. He spotted it, right on top of his computer. Clint must've not bothered to hide this one, because if he had really hidden it, it would never be found. Coulson pulled the camera off and held it close.

"Barton, your butt better be in my office in two minutes or you'll be in Alaska for the rest of your life."

Clint and Natasha couldn't breathe. Everything had worked perfectly, and the threat from Coulson was totally non-threatening when he was covered in glitter. Clint's phone had fallen to the floor after he took a picture of Coulson's face up close, and the assassins were trying to catch their breath. Every time they quieted down, almost caught their composure, they would look at each other and the laughs would start right up again.

"I guess… we should go down there. I don't really want to stay in Alaska…" Clint said between breaths, making his way towards the tunnel in the ventilation system. "Besides, we can surprise him."

Coulson's foot was tapping impatiently as his fingers drummed on the desk, watching the door in front of him. He had pulled down the balloons and tried to unstick his supplies, all waiting for Barton. The hand on his watch was ticking down closer to the two-minute mark, and this time Coulson was sure he was actually going to follow through with his threat.

When there were only five seconds left, he heard metal rattle up above him, and from the vent in his ceiling down-dropped Clint with Natasha right behind him. Coulson jumped backward, hand instantly on his gun. Sure he wasn't Clint to just waltz in through the front door, but he certainly wasn't expecting them to drop from the ceiling.

"You needed us, sir?" Clint said, innocence written all over his face.

"I said I needed you," Coulson said, pointing his pen at Clint before moving to point at Natasha, "I didn't need her."

The two assassins looked at each other barely holding back the smiles as Coulson stood up and walked around his desk. He stepped up in front of Clint until they were just inches apart. At six feet, Coulson was a tall man, but Clint was still three inches taller than him, so Clint stared at the spot over Coulson's head.

"Did you think that was funny, agent?" Coulson shouted, going full-on military commander. Clint instantly snapped to attention but was unable to wipe the smile off his face. Natasha watched this interaction, knowing that Coulson had no idea she was involved too.

"Sir, yes sir!" Clint snapped back. Natasha wouldn't even be surprised if he snapped a quick salute. Coulson opened his mouth to say something back, but he rocked back and chuckled quietly.

"It actually kind of was. You really got me. Congratulations." Coulson said, but Clint didn't break formation. A tour through the army instilled that into him, even though he had a hard time following orders.

"Thank you, sir."

"At ease, soldier." Clint dropped back with a cocky grin on his face.

"Coulson, you know those pictures are never going away, right?" The expression on Coulson's face dropped immediately as he switched back to angry.

"What pictures?!"

"Run, Tasha!" Clint grabbed Natasha's hand and they sprinted out of Coulson's office. Coulson's face fell back into a smile as he watched them run back to the dorms. Clint could act like a child on missions, but he always turned serious when he needed to be. It was good every once and a while to let those impulses run. He knew how to hold back from doing too much.

When Clint and Natasha made back to their room, Natasha jumped onto the couch while Clint slid over to the fridge. It had been a busy morning, fuel was needed. He grabbed one of the uncontaminated-with-mayo donuts and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Nat, you want one?" He asked with his mouth full, and she gave him a dirty look hanging over the side of the armrest.

"Chew with your mouth closed, Barton. God, I feel like a mother." Clint laughed and Natasha flipped back the right way as he moved to the next drawer. A smile crossed her face as her own plan was sent into action.

Right as Clint opened up on of the kitchen drawers, the same rigging mechanism he had used shot purple glitter into his face, in his mouth, and on his donut. He stood there in shock, mouth hanging wide open while Natasha broke into another fit of laughter. Her stomach hurt with each breath, she had never laughed so much in her life.

"You didn't," Clint said warningly, spitting out the glittered piece of donut and turning to Natasha.

"I did!" Natasha said, pushing up and walking over to him. "Looks cute," she commented, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before going behind him. She opened up a cabinet to get a glass for a drink when she was suddenly shot with another blast of red glitter. He coughed and blinked to get them out of her eyes, staring at Clint in surprise. He swallowed his bite of donut, grinning wildly.

"See, I did too."


	28. Chapter 28

**Hey guys, so I've changed things up a little bit. First things, the age, and timeline is different than I originally wrote in "You Know What It's Like to be Unmade" so pay attention to these numbers, not those. I'll go back and fix them later. Second, this story is going to end a little earlier than I expected because I wanted to save the next real mission for the third story (yes there is a third story in the works). I have so many things planned, so I want to finish up with this one first so I can start working on the other. There will be more of the master assassins, I promise, but this story will wrap up in the next one or two chapters I think. Thanks!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **hermionegrangerfan2017: Thanks! I was worried it wasn't all that funny, but I'm glad you liked it!**

 **Alrighty folks, enjoy!**

* * *

"So…"

"So…"

The assassins at back to back in the middle of their living room floor, legs stretched out in front of them. A few days after their April Fools shenanigans, they were running out of ideas. Fury had to extend their "time-off" since the pranks, and they were truly running out of things to do. The base was only so big, and they've discovered every crook and nanny, all the best places to hide out if someone was looking for them, and quite frankly annoying the crap out of Coulson.

"We need a vacation. Not stuck here, but an actual vacation," Clint sighed, leaning back so his head was on Natasha's shoulder staring at the ceiling.

Natasha snorted, a noise the used to annoy Clint but now he thought was kind of cute. "Like Coulson, let alone Fury would even let us have one. They'd be too afraid of us blowing something up."

Clint couldn't keep the smile out of his voice. "Would we?"

"Depends." They shared a quiet laugh, before falling silent again.

"I mean we can try. If we don't bother Coulson enough maybe he'll let us."

"Where would we even go? I'm wanted in over eighteen countries, I don't know how many of them want me casually just running around," Natasha laughed.

"Wow, only eighteen? I thought it'd be more," Clint poked at her with his elbow, and she retaliated by moving to the side so his head slipped off her shoulder and he hit the ground. "Not fair," he groaned.

"Life isn't fair, Barton." Clint continued to lay on the ground, and arm underneath his head and Natasha leaned back as well, laying perpendicular to him with her head on his stomach.

"If we did somehow get a vacation, where would you want to go?" Clint asked, lazily running his free hand through her hair. The brown dye from her Russian escape had finally run out and she cut the red again, leaving it a little longer than last time.

Natasha was quiet for a long time. She had never gotten that question before. She never got to pick where she was going, the only reason she visited other countries before was that she had a mission there. Rarely was she given the time or the freedom to walk around. But now the more she thought about it, she had visited nearly all the countries, and she couldn't remember anything but the missions. All that time, all that culture, and she didn't remember a single thing except for the people she killed.

"Greece," she finally decided. She had gone over the few places she did remember visiting. "I had a mission on one of the islands, uh, Milos I think. I was hunting down the wife of one of the ambassadors, and she was on vacation there. I remember seeing the beaches, how clear the water was. It was amazing."

"Alright, it's settled. We won't go there, but we'll hit a Greek island. Give them a little taste of STRIKE Team Delta."

"Are you sure?" Natasha asked and propped herself up on her elbows while she looked at Clint. He flashed her a smile and shrugged.

"Why not? I went to Greece once, it was neat. Besides, I like gyros."

"That's it? You like Greece because of the food?" Natasha asked incredulously.

"What? No, of course not. I mean…" Clint opened his mouth to make another argument. "Ok, yeah for the food. But I'd go to almost any country just for the food."

"You do that and you're gonna get fat," Natasha joked, affectionately patting Clint's stomach. He shot her a glare and smacked her hand out of the way.

"Fine, let's go lose some weight before we go so I can go stuff my face."

"You're on!"

Minutes later the two assassins jogged onto the mat of the gym, staring at the options around them. The gym was nearly empty, so they pretty much had the place to themselves. Over the time they spent working together they knew how to hold back from full hits, so only hand wraps were used on the mat. They originally started with the gloves, but they lost those as they grow more comfortable with each other.

Watching Hawkeye and Black Widow spar was a treat. They were easily two of the most talented agents in all of SHIELD, and their sparring sessions were intense. They fought as if it was real, without the actual hits. When they had first started, Clint had trouble even trying to catch up with Natasha. Her training in the Red Room trumped the training Clint had through SHIELD and the circus. No one thought he could ever beat the Red Room assassins. Then the fateful day came when they stepped on the sparring mat, going on for just a normal session. Clint had been watching closely, recognizing all of Natasha's moves and what she looked like right before she was going to do them. And on that day, Natasha didn't get a single hit on Clint, and he won the match. Natasha was surprised, but even more impressed. Clint's smile didn't leave for a week.

As Barton and Romanoff circled each other, they were in fight mode. There was no stopping them now. Clint made the first move, a left hook which Natasha easily dodged under. Clint came back with a right jab that Natasha knocked away, before throwing her punch. Clint caught it with an open hand, closing his fingers around her fist in a hold. He used that hold to whip her around to the other side of him. He got her arm around behind her back, but Natasha was not out of the game yet.

She kicked her leg back and caught Clint in the knee so his leg was forced backward and he was thrown off balance. Now it was her turn. Clint easily dodged a right and left jab, and swung out his arm in retaliation. She grabbed him at the forearm and brought her elbow down on his joint. At full force that would've nearly snapped his arm in half, but she pulled back just enough. Then she used it in the same way Clint did earlier, twisting him around so she could get an open shot for her elbow to his face. With that she twisted his arm up by his hand in one of her signature moves, forcing him to arch his back so his shoulder wouldn't get pulled out of its socket. It worked every single time, and she didn't use this very many times when she was sparring.

Clint saw the smile on her face, thinking she had him beat but he wasn't done yet either. Yes he was at an unnatural angle and yes his arm was bent almost to the point of unbearable, but he was also saving some tricks of his own. Shifting his legs underneath him so that they balanced, he jumped up and flipped sideways as she continued to grip his hand. With that, he broke out of the grip and landed gracefully on two feet, a smile of his own matching Natasha's.

While Natasha wasn't expecting the move, she prepared a counterattack seconds after he landed. As he silently gloated, Natasha dropped low to the ground and let her one leg swing around, catching Clint at the ankles and knocking him off his feet. She swung her leg back for a final kick, on that would render the enemy unconscious, but before she could pull back Clint grabbed her foot and yanked it, throwing her on the floor next to him.

The assassins laid there on the ground panting, catching their breath. Sparring was their way of working out thoughts, feelings, emotions. There was no worry about hurting the other person because they knew they wouldn't be able to. Going too hard on a new agent could go downhill very fast. That never happened with the two of them.

"Hey… do you think we can practice a move? I've been trying to work on it but it's kinda hard with just one person," Natasha asked a minute later, giving a hand up to Clint. He grabbed it and stood up with a little jump.

"Of course. Just don't kill me on the first try," He added with a wink, and Natasha only rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't going to, but now I am." Natasha went over the move in her head, making sure she remembered all the parts before explaining to Clint what she was doing.

"Alright, I need you to throw a right punch, and I'm going to grab it with my left hand," as she talked it out, they moved very slowly so they could get through the basics of it. "Then I'm going to twist it outward and…"

As soon as Natasha twisted the hand she leaned in that direction, putting her free hand down so she could do a form of an ariel. With her legs in the air, she hooked her right leg around the back of his neck with her left leg in the front and twisted her body so she landed on her butt and flipped Clint over completely. The move finished with her legs wrapped around his neck and holding down his original punching arm. Clint let her hold it for a second before tapping out so they could try again.

"Nice," he commented, flexing his hands. "Can you do it left side?" They did it again on the left side, the move as well-executed the first time.

"Good, I like it. I think though, if you bring your arm up a little fast when your upside down, it would make it easier to flip the person around, especially if they were a lot heavier than me."

Natasha nodded, going it over in her head and trying it one last time, bringing up her arm a little faster as he suggested, and it worked. Clint was flipped around faster and hit the ground hard.

"Oh," Clint groaned with a laugh as Natasha untangled herself from him. "That one hurt."

"It should've, that was a big hit," a new voice commented, drawing the attention of both the assassins. Phil Coulson walked through the door, raising eyebrows. He wasn't in his regular suit, he was dressed for a workout, a black t-shirt with the SHIELD logo in the corner and sweatpants. They hadn't seen him dressed like that in...forever.

"Coulson, what are you doing?" Natasha asked as he stepped onto the mat, rolling his shoulders and stretching out. Clint, however, was straight to the point.

"Did we get the vacation?" Natasha looked over at Clint in surprise, then looked at Coulson as if to ask if he was for real.

Coulson nodded. "He's been asking for the last week non-stop. Maybe if you _stop asking_ we can get it to you faster."

"Well we can sit here and wait around, or we can do something stupid and go on vacation! So let's go!" Clint said pumping a fist in the air, but Coulson cut off his whole celebration with a wave of his hand.

"First of all, I never said you got the vacation. Second of all, I didn't come here in gym clothes for no reason at all. I want to fight." The simple statement shocked both the assassins into silence.

"You… what?" Natasha asked, while Clint just stood there with his mouth hanging open. Coulson? Sparring?

"You heard me. I want to fight. What I didn't mention is that this might go into the factor of whether or not you get that vacation."

That snapped Clint right out of his daze. "Well, if the man wants to fight, let the man fight. C'mon Phil, let's go."

Clint jumped into a defensive position, throwing some fake punches and kicks at Coulson, just playing around. Coulson never got into a position, he didn't even put his hands up. Natasha grabbed her water bottle and sat down to watch the fun. Coulson had something up his sleeve, and she was just waiting to see it.

A minute later, Clint knew Coulson wasn't going to let him play around with his, so he set his hands and the two started circling. Coulson had some good hits, but Clint dodged every single one of them. Clint was having a great time, throwing punches Coulson couldn't dodge. Instead of hitting his handler, Clint would just tap him on the side of the head. Nothing that would hurt but just enough to annoy him.

Natasha knew something was going down when she saw Coulson's demeanor shift, and she sat up to pay more attention. Whatever was about it go down was going to be very interesting.

Without warning, Coulson ducked under one of Clint's punches and dove towards the ground. Using his momentum, he grabbed Clint's arm and opposite leg, lifting til Clint was laying across his shoulders. Natasha caught a glimpse of Clint's priceless face in the air, and for a moment she wished she had her phone with her. She heard him swear as Coulson swung around and leaned over so he flipped Clint off him.

Clint landed on the mat with a thud, and Coulson dropped so his knee dug into Clint's chest, and his fist cocked back for the final punch. The air was knocked out of Clint's lungs, so he lay there trying to breathe as Coulson smiled. After a minute more of the pure satisfaction, Coulson got off Clint and walked over to Natasha.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that," He said, plopping down on the mat next to the redhead who gave him a fist bump. Clint rolled over onto his stomach in front of them, and the two agents and handler sat there talking about how Coulson suddenly could take down an assassin.

"I mean, when did you learn that? I know you can spar, you've gone up against me your fair share of time, but you could never do anything like that."

"You should feel special Barton, I learned that move just for you. And I've been practicing more. Even though I'm lead agent a lot of times, I go out in the field more. I need to make sure I'm still in shape in case it happens again."

"How many missions have you guys run together? Before me, I guess," Natasha asked curiously. She knew as much as she would probably ever know about Barton, but she knew pretty much nothing about Coulson. She knew that Clint was an agent of SHIELD long before she was, and Coulson was his handler. Other than that, she knew nothing about Coulson.

"Wait, including the one where you found me or not?" Clint asked, and the two men stared at each other for a minute, counting off missions.

"Including where I found you, somewhere close to thirty-five, forty missions I think?" Coulson answered. It was more than average for a regular SHIELD agent, but Clint Barton wasn't a regular SHIELD agent. Natasha whistled softly. That was a lot. That made him a lot younger than she expected. He must've been about eighteen when he started SHIELD. Close to the age, she was when she started missions for the Red Room.

"Yeah, it's been a while," Coulson said, staring at Barton. "You were not easy to deal with in the beginning." Clint put his fists underneath his chin and tilted his head to feign innocence.

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you. You couldn't work with anyone else for more than ten minutes without punching them. I think you've punched every single person on this base."

"Including Fury?" Natasha asked incredulously.

"Even Fury."

Clint could only shrug. "I had some anger issues, and he was getting on my nerves." Coulson turned and stared at Natasha with a grateful smile.

"You are the first partner he's had that's stayed. Or he's let stay." Natasha was surprised. Clint Barton, the man who was friends with everyone, couldn't have a partner without punching them? It sounded nothing like the Clint Barton she knew.

For once, Clint didn't have a witty or sarcastic comeback. He just smiled a genuine smile. The one Natasha think she fell in love with. Coulson watched awkwardly as his two assassins stare at each other with fondness. He suspected something more was going on between them, but he never dared to ask. He didn't know what was scarier, an angry Clint Barton or an angry Natasha Romanoff.

"I'm gonna hit the showers, thanks to you I stink. Don't do anything…" Coulson waved his hand in the air near the two of them and they broke into laughter. As if on cue, the two of them start groaning and making inappropriate noises.

"Disgusting. Don't ever do that again," Coulson called back at them. Before he left the gym doors shut behind him he called out one last thing. "My office in twenty. Be there."

The two assassins stared at each other as their handler left them in confusing. They helped each other up and took turns glancing at each other and the door.

"Race you back!" Clint shouted, swiping Natasha's legs out from underneath her and sprinting through the door. Natasha swore and ran after him, the two assassins fighting till the last minute for the first person through the door.

On the dot twenty minutes later, Clint and Natasha entered Coulson's office, all three of them showered and in clean clothes.

"You wanted us, sir?"

Without a word, he dropped a manila folder on his desk and gestured towards it. Natasha picked it up slowly and opened it up, pulling out the first things. In her hands were to round trip tickets to Greece.

"There's your vacation. Have fun. Don't blow anything up."


	29. Chapter 29

**Alrighty, guys get ready for this one. If you haven't been noticing the growing romantic subplot, either you haven't been paying attention or I failed at writing. Either way, get ready for a heck of a chapter. This I actually had so much fun writing, this is probably my favorite chapter.**

 **Enjoy! Last chapter coming soon!**

* * *

"I told you no one wore a Hawaiian shirt in Greece, Natasha. For once, I'm glad I didn't listen to you." After landing on the Greek island of Kos late in the afternoon, they started the trek on the island to their hotel. Coulson had booked them a hotel room in an elegant hotel room, surprising both of them. In thanks of all the Clint had done for the agency his years of working and for the both of them needing the break, SHIELD was paying for the trip and everything with it. Both of them, however, had a very severe talk with Fury about using money inappropriately. But they were going on vacation, so little attention was paid.

They were in Greece for a total of twelve days including travel, and they both intended to make the most of it. Like every good assassin, they packed light, each of them only having one duffle back and one backpack for everything they needed. Anything else they forgot or needed could be picked up in-store. There was a service so their bags were taken to their room in the hotel from the airport, so they could walk around town without having to lug their bags with. Even though the hotel they were staying at and the places they planned on visiting were major tourist sights so English was generally spoken, both assassins were fluent in Greek so communication would be no problem. They were all set for their vacation, and they were excited.

Natasha could not keep her eyes off the skies around her. It was beautiful. The weather was amazing, just under seventy degrees, just cool enough for a long sleeve to be comfortable. Before the trip, Natasha got to pick out clothes she wanted to wear, not for a mission, not for a dress code, but something she wanted to wear. She picked a pair of blue jeans with a few holes in the knee, enough to be stylish but not too much that it was ratty. A light grey v-neck really brought out her eyes and a black cardigan was thrown on top kept the chill-out. Sandals were still fine with the weather they had, and the pair she had were cute and made for walking, so it was worth double. Just for fun, and because she was amazed she had a _choice_ , she threw on a wide-brimmed light-colored fedora to keep the sun out of her face.

Clint watched Natasha as she stared around the town in amazement. He had never seen her so happy before. This was her first time in beautiful countries and islands, without having someone to kill or kidnap. If he was honest, this was the first vacation Clint had in a long time as well. In their job, there wasn't much time for vacation or fun and rarely was someone not out to kill them.

Clint was dressed for the weather as well, not surprised by the temperature. He didn't care for the cold too much, but he wasn't bothered by it. However, this weather was gorgeous. A pair of light blue jeans and black vans were comfortable enough to walk around in, with a white t-shirt. A light bomber jacket and aviator sunglasses on top of his head completed the outfit.

Natasha was in awe of the town. She felt like she was in heaven. Occasionally she caught herself looking over her shoulder, seeing if anyone was following them, but her thoughts relaxed at the safety measures Coulson had put in place. SHIELD had made sure they had foolproof identities, last names changed just enough so they wouldn't be recognized but they wouldn't have to go hard into memorizing them. Once getting passports and identities all set, plus satellite phones in case something went south and they needed an immediate pickup. SHIELD had offered to let them ride on one of the SHIELD jets, but they declined. Clint Byron and Natasha Rome headed to the airport to head to Greece like normal tourists.

Clint could see in her face that she was in love with the place. And Clint understood, because he was in love with her. The face she made with every new discovery in the town was something Clint would give anything to see all the time. He would take her to every island, every small town, just to see her face light up with her smile. She looked younger, carefree. Like she wasn't an assassin for a living. She was beautiful.

Clint checked the map he had again, double-checking the roads. He stopped on the sidewalk while Natasha ran into a little store, immediately jumping into a conversation with the shop owner on one of his products. If they continued on the road they were on it would lead them to the hotel in the next ten minutes, but with a quick glance ahead, it was were part of the town cut off and they would just be walking on concrete. But if he took the road up to his right, where the town continued on in all the things Natasha was fascinated in. It would deter them another twenty minutes, but they had nowhere to be. And he was right about earlier. He would give anything to see that smile keep going.

"Nat!" he caught her attention and almost melted at the smile on her face. "Let's go up this way," he pointed up to the right. Her eyes widened at the sight of more towns and she practically skipped to him. Clint had to race to keep up with her.

When they reached the entrance of the beautiful street, Natasha gasped. She had never seen anything like it. They were in the older part of town, so the buildings were tall with plenty of windows, made of stone, concrete, and marble. The streets were thin but there weren't too many people to make it crowded. Between the buildings strings of lights hung between roofs, crisscrossing between each other down the road. They were on, but five in the evening wasn't dark enough for them to truly sign, it was still light out.

Blue highlighted the white color of the buildings, and they were accented by plants hanging out of windows, growing out of pots, and on the sides of buildings. A wall of flowers crawled up the side of one of the buildings, and Natasha immediately ran over to look at them. Natasha closed her eyes and leaned in close, letting the smell of all the different types of flowers assault her all at once. Without her noticing, Clint slipped out his phone and took a couple of pictures of her in this awe. But before he could capture a photo with the smile, the store across the street caught her eye she ran over to it, looking at the little figurines set out on the tables. Clint pulled out his wallet and talked to the flower shop owner, a little old woman with frail skin and bright eyes.

" _Hi, I'd like to buy some flowers, please,"_ he spoke in fluent Greek. The women didn't seem surprised but smiled at him the entire time.

" _What would you like?"_

" _Um, how about a few of the yellow daffodils surrounded by the white roman orchids?"_

Now the woman looked impressed. " _You know your flowers."_

" _I'm a… florist."_ He wasn't really expecting the question. It was only half a lie. He was a florist for a mission in Spain a few years ago, so he had to learn a million types of flowers just to keep his cover strong. He honestly didn't know that he remembered what the flowers were called until he said them a moment ago.

" _Well then Mr. Florist, here you go."_ The bouquet was small, with three yellow and white daffodils in the center with the white roman orchids surrounding it. It was a simple bouquet only tied together with a little string.

" _How much do I owe you?"_ Clint asked without looking up, pulling a few euros out of his wallet. When she didn't give an answer he looked up to see her shaking her head.

" _Nothing. On the house, as people say."_ In a surprise, Clint grabbed the flowers, and the woman held out another single white and yellow daffodils.

" _Thank you, but why?"_

" _I've seen the way you look at her. That's not a girl you want to lose."_ Clint felt a little blush rise up in his face as he nodded his thanks. He hid the flowers behind his back as he walked towards Natasha, who was bartering intensely with the owner. When she finished she held a little bag with tissue paper stuffed inside triumphantly. They both turned and nearly ran into each other, hiding the gifts.

"You causing any trouble over there Romanoff?" Clint asked with an eyebrow raised. Natasha matched his face and gave him the same taunt.

"No, but I did get these. And I didn't even have to threaten anybody," she said triumphantly, pulling out the tissue paper to see. Inside wrapped neatly were three little figurines. A spider, a hawk, and a chicken

"Woah," Clint breathed, and Natasha nodded eagerly.

"I know. When I saw them it was too big of a coincidence. I had to get them." She paused, watching his face carefully. "Do you like them?"

"Tasha, I love them. But what's the chicken?"The smile showed up again on her face and Clint loved it as much as the figurines.

"It's for Coulson. You call him a mother hen all the time, so I saw this too and it was amazing."

"It's perfect," Clint laughed. Now it was his turn.

From behind his back, he pulled out the small bundle of flowers and Natasha gasped. The ones she was looking at earlier. She held them gently and brought them up to her nose so she could smell them. While she was doing that, Clint gently broke off the end of the single daffodil and stuck it in the brim of her hat.

"Smile!" He said suddenly, pulling out his phone a capturing a quick picture. With the flowers covering half her face and the other in her hat, her eyes stood out brightly from the other colors. It was beautiful. But he still didn't get _the_ smile. He would though, before the end of the night. Natasha turned around and Clint gently put the bag of figurines in her backpack surrounded by a scarf so they wouldn't break and stuck the bundle of flowers in a side pocket to keep them from bouncing around.

"Let's keep going!" Natasha said excitedly, grabbing his hand and walking forward. Clint was surprised at first. She had never grabbed his hand first. But he guessed there was always a first time for everything. As they continued their walk down the street, Clint shifted his hand so their fingers were intertwined and their arms swung gently as they walked.

They walked through nearly all the shops, Natasha just more fascinated than the last. They looked at woodworking shelves and chess sets, jewelry shops with stunning rocks from the beaches in front of the town, watched a potter create some new pieces, and tried honey-covered dough balls from a sweets shop. Each time Clint took pictures, trying to capture the moment where Natasha had that perfect smile. But each time, he was half a second too late. He was so close.

Soon they made it through the entire town and up to the hotel. The hotel they were staying at was on a small hill that overlooked the town just off to the left and the ocean in front of it. To the side was a small cliff where you could see every part of the quaint little town. It was nearing eight in the evening and the sun was finally setting. Clint knew this was his chance and he took it. Just as Natasha turned to look over the town in all it's beauty, the golden hour of the sunset hit her at just the right angle, and she smiled. It was _the_ smile. The one he had been looking for. The camera took the picture right that moment and he can't believe he caught it.

While Natasha continued to look over the town, he came up behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back into him and they stood their, silent as they watched the movement below them. Shops were closing but the nightlife was coming out, young couples walking in the street, or groups of friends going to find the best place to dance. This was the break they needed. No one coming after them, nobody hunting them done. No one to kill, no one to interrogate or get information from. Just the two of them getting the break they deserve.

"Are you ready for dinner?" Clint whispered in her ear, and she nodded, feeling her stomach growling at her.

"I'm starving."

The entered the hotel and both were immediately in awe yet again. Greece was so beautiful, and they were certainly good at showing it off. The huge archways, tall glass, and sleek marble. They checked in at the front counter and were informed their bags were already in their rooms, so everything was set up for them. They found their room on the third floor, opening the hotel door to the stunning suite. A long couch sat in the middle of the floor, with a living space and a kitchenette for small cooking. To the right were the beds, two king-sized beds side by side, with a sliding door in front of them. Right outside the sliding door was their own private pool, overlooking the ocean in front of them.

"Coulson really outdid himself," Natasha noticed, laying her backpack on the bed.

"I wonder how much Fury freaked out when he saw the price for this thing," Clint joked as Natasha went to stare out the window. Clint grabbed the flowers out of the backpack and put them in a vase that was already in the room, sticking them in the middle. Then the figurines came out, placed safely on the counter so they wouldn't get broken.

Clint checked his watch, showing it was just after eight-thirty. Dinner would start at the top of the hour, so they only had a little while to get dressed. It was a black-tie event, and Coulson had informed them that he got them two seats so they had no choice but to go. Clint had grumbled about it, but he packed one of his tuxes, and Natasha was more than happy to pick out a dress to wear. Just like old times, it took Clint a whopping ten minutes to get fully ready. He was in and out of the bathroom in five minutes, and the rest was easy. By the time he was tying his shoes ready to go, Natasha was still in the bathroom and her dress was laying on her bed.

A couple of minutes later, a hand snuck out of the bathroom, grabbed the dress, and went back in. Clint had run a hand through his hair a fourth time when Natasha's head poked out of the door, looking for him.

"Hey, do you think you can help me with my hair again?" Clint remembered doing her hair right before the mission at Daniels' mansion. He was good with hair, the skill was taught while growing up with the circus and seeing the performers get ready every night.

"Of course." Before he went inside the bathroom, he snagged a small strand from the roman orchids and stuck it in his pocket for later.

Natasha was stunning. The black dress fit her perfectly, off the shoulder sleeves and mermaid cut flowing at the bottom, a small slit on the side of her dress. The strappy heels tied just above her ankles, and she was nearly as tall as him. His tuxedo was simple, all black with a little black bow tie around his neck. Earlier that night he had taken a piece of the roman orchid out and stuck it in his lapel. Now as he set Natasha's hair in a formal low bun, he weaved the strand of orchid through her hair. Now they matched.

"You ready, madam?" Clint asked after she finished her final touches and was ready to go. He held out his arm and she looped her hand through, smiling up at him eagerly.

"Of course." Together, the assassins walked down the first floor of the hotel, going to have a fancy dinner without having to stake it out. The fancy dinner was for them, and them alone. This was their night.

After a beautiful and delicious dinner, Clint and Natasha made their way back to their hotel room, laughing all the way up.

"When the waiter came over and started talking, I literally forgot every single word in Greek. I honestly couldn't remember a single word!" Natasha snorted, covering her mouth with her hand.

"All he was saying was the food titles!"

"I know!"

It was a struggle to get the door open they were laughing so hard. Once they were inside, there was nothing to be dressed up for so Natasha kicked off her shoes and Clint pulled off his bow tie and jacket. It was getting late, but neither of them was tired yet. They had too much fun at dinner, devouring the food and poking fun at each other. Multiple times they were louder than they intended to be and gotten strange looks from the people around them. They just ignored the looks and kept joking.

"You down for a swim?" Clint asked suddenly, trying to think of something to keep the night going.

"Well, that is the reason I packed a swimsuit."

It was much easier taking off all the fancy clothes than putting them on. Natasha stole the bathroom while she changed, and Clint just made a quick switch behind the bed. Inside the bathroom, she went to check the time so she tapped the phone screen in front of her, thinking it was hers. When she was greeted with her own face, she realized Clint left his phone in the background. And now one of the pictures he had taken of her as his phone screen. She felt a forbidden blush fill her cheeks as she changed into her swimsuit. Clint was already outside when she finished and she made sure to grab her phone when she walked out with two towels.

The pool had been heated slightly, so even in the cool sixty-degree weather, the warm was perfect. They jumped in the water and floated around for a while, talking, laughing, splashing. There was plenty of surprise attacks and cannonballs, just making a mess. It was the most fun they had in years.

Natasha thought they were finished as they left the pool just after midnight, but evidently, Clint had more surprises.

"You up for a little danger? Not too much, of course," Clint said cautiously, having thrown on a t-shirt and a clean pair of short after drying off. Natasha also changed into some clean clothes, one of Clint's sweatshirts he had no idea she stole and a pair of shirts.

"Sure, just don't get me killed."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

At the back end of the pool, a small fence acted as a barrier between the ledge of the pool deck and the cliff below them. Without hesitation Clint jumped over the barrier and sat on the ledge, his legs hanging off below. It wasn't the roof, but it was close enough to it. Before she joined him, Natasha saw this as perfect revenge, grabbing her phone and quickly snapped a couple of pictures. He turned around to see if she was coming and she got an amazing photo of him with the light of the moon in the background, a smile lit across his face. There. Revenge.

Natasha followed him after that, sitting down next to him and sliding under his arm as they stared out. The ocean below them crashed against the rocks of the cliff, and a few seagulls did their final calls for the night. The moonlight was almost as bright as the sun, and millions of stars dotted the sky. A gorgeous night fit for a perfect day.

"Clint?" Clint hummed in response. "Thanks. For this. For _everything."_

Clint knew exactly what she meant. Now he just had to work up the courage for what he was going to say. Taking a deep breath, he just had to go for it.

"You remember, back after Budapest, at the hotel? Right before you tried to kill me for, well, the second time?" Natasha was somewhat confused on why he was bringing this up but she nodded. She regretted what she did immediately after she had done it. She could've screwed up big time. She would have thrown all of this away if she had gone through. It was still one of her biggest ' _almosts'_.

"You kept asking me why I didn't kill you, why I wanted to bring you back to SHIELD, and all I said was don't prove me wrong?" Suddenly Natasha was able to notice every single detail. The slight dimple Clint had when he smiled. The tinted red in his cheeks as he continued to speak. The way he anxiously opened and closed his fist. He was nervous. So was she. But they both knew what they wanted. It wasn't necessarily right, they were partners. Co-workers. It might not have been right, but it _felt_ right.

"Yeah?"

"You didn't prove me wrong."

Before Clint could even move, Natasha leaned forward and their lips met. Softly at first. They came back up and green eyes met grey. In sync, a smile crossed both their faces and Clint cupped the side of Natasha's head with his hand and pressed in for another kiss, harder this time. Under the moonlight, the waves crashing beneath them the master assassins kissed, one that was long overdue.

When they broke apart for the final time, Natasha went back into leaning into Clint, with his one arm around her shoulders, gently rubbing small circles into her back. His other hand was intertwined with Natasha's on his leg. They listened to the waves and each inhales of each other's breath.

Their job was dangerous, they weren't always guaranteed a tomorrow. But now it was just the two of them, alive and with each other. And that was all that mattered.


	30. Chapter 30

**Hey guys! Last chapter! Here is a sneak peek into what is coming in the next in the third story! Give me a little time though, and I'll get it out as soon as possible. I want to thank everyone for all their support, whether it was reviewing, following/favoriting, or even just reading, it all means so much to me. I love writing theses, and I'm glad you all enjoy them so much. Don't forget me though, because you have not seen the last of our Master Assassins!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Coulson leaned back in his chair, staring at the little chicken he held in his hands. Barton and Romanoff got back to the SHIELD base a few days ago, and when Coulson went into his office there was a little chicken with a note underneath.

 _For the mother hen._

 _-Barton and Romanoff_

Coulson had laughed aloud when he saw that, immediately giving the chicken a permanent spot on his desk. He had thanked that assassins when he saw them, but they wouldn't know just how much he loved it.

Coulson had seen the assassins exactly once after their vacation, but something had changed. They were both happier, smiling more often. Natasha even apologized when one of the younger agents accidentally bumped into her. It was different, but it was nice. Other than that, he hadn't seen them much. They had kept mostly to themselves as they moved around the base, which isn't uncommon for them to do. Most of the time Coulson found them in the gym, sparring or racing each other on the parkour course, smiles bright on their face. Something good had happened in Greece, and Coulson was glad for it. They all needed some good.

The door opened, snapping him out of his thoughts. Clint and Natasha stood side by side in front of his desk, and he sat up.

"You guys ready for another mission?" Clint and Natasha looked at each other eagerly. The vacation was nice, but they loved their job too.

Coulson threw down a folder at the edge of his desk, with a top-secret stamped across the top. Underneath their team, STRIKE Team Delta was written in Fury's handwriting and one final word underneath. _Abidjan._

* * *

 **Thanks for everything guys! I'll see you guys later!**

 **Be awesome, stay hilarious, trust God, and love Avengers!**

 **-avengersashley**


End file.
